Letra de Prediction of warfare
Amon Amarth
Ships were prepared
Weapons and shields
Sails were raised
We're heading out to sea!
Norway just a bed in the east
Our journey had begun
Helpfull winds gave us our speed
Under a warming sun
Heading to the emerald land
A fleet of 50 ships
A army of 2000 men, led by the king
Army arising, dark and ferous
Horror across the black roads
As the night rolled in over us
We felt the wrath of the storm
That night I was haunted by dreams
An omen, of what was to come
The serpent arose from the sea
Ready to strike
With hammer in hand
The serpent in pain, twisting in furious rage!
Fought for its live
The serpent escaped
Thor was in rage
..My dreams began to fade..
[solo of some sort]
Awoke of my dreams
Sword in my hand
The break of dawn
Closing in on Irish land
Time to attack
Grabbed our shields
We came ashore
And saw the waiting horde
The fight was short and deadly intense
The Irish fought us well
But as we gained the upperhand
Their fighting spirit dwelled
Ready to strike
With swords in our hands
The struggle with heart
The Irish fell to our wrath
Fought for his live
The king escaped
With fury divine
King Olav threw his sword
Weapons and shields
Sails were raised
We're heading out to sea!
Norway just a bed in the east
Our journey had begun
Helpfull winds gave us our speed
Under a warming sun
Heading to the emerald land
A army of 2000 men, led by the king
Army arising, dark and ferous
Horror across the black roads
As the night rolled in over us
We felt the wrath of the storm
That night I was haunted by dreams
An omen, of what was to come
The serpent arose from the sea
Ready to strike
With hammer in hand
The serpent in pain, twisting in furious rage!
Fought for its live
The serpent escaped
Thor was in rage
..My dreams began to fade..
[solo of some sort]
Awoke of my dreams
Sword in my hand
The break of dawn
Closing in on Irish land
Time to attack
Grabbed our shields
We came ashore
And saw the waiting horde
The fight was short and deadly intense
The Irish fought us well
But as we gained the upperhand
Their fighting spirit dwelled
Ready to strike
With swords in our hands
The struggle with heart
The Irish fell to our wrath
Fought for his live
The king escaped
With fury divine
King Olav threw his sword
Letra de Prediction Of Warfare de Amon Amarth
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