Choosers of the Slain

Bo_the_Mighty1

Uthgar

Bo_the_Mighty1

Viking folk, death metal

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[Verse 1 – Soft gang vocals, swaying]
When the moon is sharp and the night is deep,
And the ravens hush and the wounded weep,
We hear the beat of iron wings,
Above the field where the dying cling.
A sound like steel and a mourner’s cry,
Daughters of the one-eyed sky.
[Verse 2 – Still soft, layered]
No cloud-white horses bear their tread,
They ride the storm on hooves of dread.
Silver mail and spears of frost,
Eyes that tally every cost.
They seek no crown and no king’s throne,
They weigh the heart, they read the bone.
[Pre-Chorus – Whispered, rising]
Listen close, my brother dear,
The wind is bringing them near.
[Chorus – Full gallop, hall-shaking roar]
VALKYRJA! Choosers of the slain!
They ride the thunder, they drink the rain!
VALKYRJA! Beautiful and cruel!
They kiss the brave and they scorn the fool!
They lift the worthy on wings of storm,
And leave the coward to rot and mourn!
[Verse 3 – Mid-tempo, half-sung]
Old Gunnar took the spear for me,
Stood tall though death was plain to see.
He laughed through blood and would not fall,
Till one leaned down and spoke his call.
Her hair was night, her voice was flame,
She spoke his soul by its true name.
[Verse 4 – Faster, voices raw]
They do not weep, they do not sigh,
They were never born to die.
Freyja’s daughters, Odin’s sight,
They ride the edge of day and night.
When they choose, the world stands still,
Even fate must bow its will.
[Bridge – Slow, ritual chant]
Some men beg and some men hide,
Some men stand with arms spread wide.
Some are taken, some denied,
All are judged the day they died.
[Final Chorus – Heaviest, the roof lifts]
VALKYRJA! Choosers of the slain!
They drink our blood like crimson rain!
VALKYRJA! Death in maiden form!
They love the brave and curse the warm!
When my last breath tears from my chest,
Let it be to one who knows me best!
[Outro – Tagelharpa and horn, fading]
So let the spears fall, let the storm roar,
I’ll meet my end upon this floor.
I’ll look to heaven without fear,
And greet the one who draws me near.
Cold lips will whisper through the blade:
“Come, warrior, your place is made.”

2097/7500

[Verse 1 – Soft gang vocals, swaying] When the moon is sharp and the night is deep, And the ravens hush and the wounded weep, We hear the beat of iron wings, Above the field where the dying cling. A sound like steel and a mourner’s cry, Daughters of the one-eyed sky. [Verse 2 – Still soft, layered] No cloud-white horses bear their tread, They ride the storm on hooves of dread. Silver mail and spears of frost, Eyes that tally every cost. They seek no crown and no king’s throne, They weigh the heart, they read the bone. [Pre-Chorus – Whispered, rising] Listen close, my brother dear, The wind is bringing them near. [Chorus – Full gallop, hall-shaking roar] VALKYRJA! Choosers of the slain! They ride the thunder, they drink the rain! VALKYRJA! Beautiful and cruel! They kiss the brave and they scorn the fool! They lift the worthy on wings of storm, And leave the coward to rot and mourn! [Verse 3 – Mid-tempo, half-sung] Old Gunnar took the spear for me, Stood tall though death was plain to see. He laughed through blood and would not fall, Till one leaned down and spoke his call. Her hair was night, her voice was flame, She spoke his soul by its true name. [Verse 4 – Faster, voices raw] They do not weep, they do not sigh, They were never born to die. Freyja’s daughters, Odin’s sight, They ride the edge of day and night. When they choose, the world stands still, Even fate must bow its will. [Bridge – Slow, ritual chant] Some men beg and some men hide, Some men stand with arms spread wide. Some are taken, some denied, All are judged the day they died. [Final Chorus – Heaviest, the roof lifts] VALKYRJA! Choosers of the slain! They drink our blood like crimson rain! VALKYRJA! Death in maiden form! They love the brave and curse the warm! When my last breath tears from my chest, Let it be to one who knows me best! [Outro – Tagelharpa and horn, fading] So let the spears fall, let the storm roar, I’ll meet my end upon this floor. I’ll look to heaven without fear, And greet the one who draws me near. Cold lips will whisper through the blade: “Come, warrior, your place is made.”

0/500