Текст песни

[Verse 1 ]
In the hush before the storm, we heard the call,
A whisper carved in ice upon the fjord wall.
The gods were silent, but the runes still burned,
And through the bloodline, fate returned.

We were sons of ash, daughters of flame,
Born to the silence, baptized in pain.
The world forgot, but the sky remembered—
The oath we swore, the fire we rendered.

[Pre-Chorus]
Raise the shield, let the thunder speak,
The gods walk with the battle-weeks.

[Chorus]
Raise the horn to the Viking gods,
To Thor’s roar and Freyja’s fire.
Let the storm be our battle song,
And the stars our funeral pyre.
We are the sons of shattered shields,
The daughters of the sacred fields. In death, we rise—immortal, proud—
To the halls where gods are crowned.

[SOLO]

[Verse 2]
We crossed the sea on dragon’s breath,
With tales of glory stitched to death.
The wind was cruel, the nights were long,
But still we marched with sacred song.

Odin’s eye upon the flame,
Guided us through loss and shame.
We bore the weight of ancient sin,
And found the strength to rise again.

[Pre-Chorus]
Steel in hand, and soul unbound,
We fight for more than mortal ground.

[Chorus]
Raise the horn to the Viking gods,
To Thor’s roar and Freyja’s fire.
Let the storm be our battle song,
And the stars our funeral pyre.
We are the flame that never dies,
The storm behind the warrior’s eyes.
In death, we rise—immortal, proud—
To the halls where gods are crowned.

[Bridge]
Skies split open, lightning calls, Valhalla waits beyond the walls.
No fear, no shame, no turning back—
We walk the path of wolf and axe.

The raven circles, the serpent wakes,
The earth it trembles, the mountain breaks.
But still we stand, with hearts of stone,
For gods and kin, for blood and bone.

[Verse 3]
Now the fire is in our veins,
No longer bound by earthly chains.
We speak in thunder, dream in flame,
And rise as echoes of their name.

The mead is poured, the feast begins,
We toast to loss, we toast to wins.
And in the hall of endless skies,
We find the truth that never dies.

[Final Chorus]
Raise the horn to the Viking gods,
To Thor’s roar and Freyja’s fire.
Let the storm be our battle song,
And the stars our funeral pyre.
We are the sons of shattered shields,
The daughters of the sacred fields.
In death, we rise—immortal, proud—
To the halls where gods are crowned.