Being here among the saints
We don't need our armoured friends
Holy piece surround us and I close my tired eyes
If You can imagine paradise...
Nothing else may hurt You and Your head is safe at least
You achiver Valhalla-holy piece...
Frosty air from fields of snow
Hills of ice You used to go-to
All of this's behind You and You know-it's time to rest
Oldmen's choir's inviting-be our guest...
Take Your sword, Your helmet-follow them to gates of calm
Where You'll find the harbour-sense of all...
But on the Earth they're still spilling the blood
Choosing between doom and evil creation
Crescent and cross, before shot You must load
It is their aim and the future's direction
