Sound the gjallarhorn!
Expect in your side, a stinging thorn.

From the dawn of time we hail,
the lid of your coffin to nail.

Sing out your terrors and fear,
The Sound of Drums, the Vikings draw near!

Through nebulae and starstorms we sail.
Blazing our own bloody trail.

To friends and allies, loyal!
Against our foes, brutal!

So hide away, and hope we fly by.
The sound of guns, your doom draws nigh.

Time and space, will break and quake.
As we leave destruction and death in our wake.

We shall not rest from our violent quest.
Until we find a home, in which we’ll invest.

So flee, now, before it’s too late.
We’re the thundrous sound of death, the end to your fate.