Three winters without summer, no sun shall grace the sky, The age of the Axe-Time, where brothers shall defy! The moral bounds are broken, the ties of kinship fail, Fimbulwinter freezes, a long and bitter wail! The cock crows loud in Jötunheimr, the frost-wolves break their chains, Sleipnir trembles underfoot, the World-Tree shakes and strains! The mountains crumble down as the Midgard Serpent wakes, And poisons every ocean, for Ragnarök he makes! The horns of Heimdallr sound out, the call of Gjallarhorn! Warning every warrior, on this disastrous morn! Naglfar, the ship of nails, sails upon the poisoned sea! The final march is coming, to Vígríðr—where we shall be! RAGNARÖK! The fire consumes the world! RAGNARÖK! The banner of the giants unfurled! Surt comes from the South with a sword brighter than the sun, The battle for existence has already begun! The final fight for glory, until the deed is done! The All-Father rides to meet the beast that was unbound, The jaws of Fenrir closing, without a mournful sound! Jörmungandr's venom spit and Thórr's hammer raised on high, They claim each other's spirits beneath the endless sky! The death of the Destroyer, who shattered frost and storm, Eight steps he takes and falters, his body growing warm. The flame-sword meets the light-god, when Freyr falls to Surt, The old world burns away in sacrifice and hurt! The horns of Heimdallr sound out, the call of Gjallarhorn! Warning every warrior, on this disastrous morn! Naglfar, the ship of nails, sails upon the poisoned sea! The final march is coming, to Vígríðr—where we shall be! RAGNARÖK! The fire consumes the world! RAGNARÖK! The banner of the giants unfurled! Surt comes from the South with a sword brighter than the sun, The battle for existence has already begun! The final fight for glory, until the deed is done! Life rises again... (Faint, clean whispered vocal) (The final sounds are the gentle lapping of water, symbolizing the new world rising from the sea, then silence.)
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