A storm rolls in from the sea
Covering the land with black thunder clouds
Rain whips the ground at their feet
As they
come ashore in this foreign land
Thunder brakes the silence
Of fivehundred men assembled ashore
Gazing through the misty
rain
At the mountain not a mile away
So dark and silent it stands there
The mighty AMON AMARTH
Reaching for the cloudcloked
skies
So grim and fearful in might
With the wind in their backs they start walking
Decisive men of the north
They strive
through this darkened land
With only mount doom in their sight
The closer they get to the mountain
The clearer their eyes can
see
A forest of one thousand spears awaiting
Awaiting the battle that will be
A cry of war emerges
Echoes over the
field
Warriors run, like wolves up the sloaps
Boldley charging the enemy lines
With weapons so fearsome and sharp in their
hands
And shields of oakwood and steel
They slit open stomachs and split skulls to the jaw
Intestants cover the field
The
defenders are weak in this brutal war
The northmen have power and guts
A bloodshed like no one has seen here before
None can
escape their cuts
Arrows with fire fly through the air
Touching houses and shields
The Vikings can feel victory is near
As
the enemy headlessly flees
A gust of wind blows in from the north
Clearing the clouds away
As twilight falls and the stars
come forth
And the seawolves return to the bay
Corpses lie scattered all over the field
For the ravens to eat as they
please
The mountain is now left there behind
As they sail with the first morning breeze