Riding towards the horizon Upon the monumental rocks, awaiting the end of a dishonourable life, I perceive my morality fading to a weakly seeming substance, climbing towards my yer unsealed faith, I arrive (faith arrives)
Staring into the abyss of Midgard, above, the Angels of Asgard and the armour of Loges child. I'm losing myself in an odyssey through the bottomless depth of my spiteful soul.
At the end, the will to die. My nag becomes restive, I open up my eyes and spread out my arms: "God of gods, take my inglorious soul! here is nothing left, for me..."
God of gods, ...
My hands are longing for the lance and aim at my vulnerable essence.
God of gods, ...
As I lift to strike... A sudden lightning bannes my glace.
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