The Sound Of A 1000 Swords

Hordes of warriors march among the path of war
To kill their enemies
In the name of the oldest God
In the name of pagan honour
In this cold and dark night.

The fog hides the
Brightness of the moon
And the winds carry silence
Through the ancient forest.

A spectral grudge rings
Through the night
The blaze of torches
Shines on the wide horizon
The flag of war blows
Over the army.

The last desire of the soldiers
Is to kill the enemy
Through their wrath and
Through their hate
The soldiers grew in strength and might.

Finally the battle has begun
The first sacrifice falls to the ground
The pagan steel cut flesh
Screams of dying warriors
Disappear in the noise of battle
The clashing of a 1000 swords.

Corpses lying on the battlefield
Blood coagulates on flesh
The eyes of the dead see nothing
And the hordes of warriors
Stand on the battlefield
As the thirst for honour, might and victory is
Quenched.