On the wounds of our oak dragons we sail
The tail hidden beneath the cold sea
Never have I seen these men so frail
Glory never seemed so real
Onward we sail
With far fewer men
Our brothers’ lament
Glory never seemed so real
We rowed for what seemed so long
And asked the gods to guide
Odin of wood, his one eye carved
Our course he will provide
Against the currents he drifted
Though the winds began to blow
Towards the mist he drifted
Through the mist we’ll go
The raven flies into the mist
We follow, the skies turn black
The weeping of the winds turns to wails
As the sun turns to ash
Giant tides, rain bites like swords
The ship begins to thrash
No land in sight, the anvil pounds on
Only ashes of the sun
Heaved across the jagged sea
Tormented by nature’s unrelenting hand
A wave swallows the horizon to the east
And opens wide like the maw of a whale
Inside the mouth of this beast we rode
‘Neath skies no man had seen before
It calmed the seas and left the storm in its wake
And spat us upon the shore