Wards of Iron (Pack Your Bags)

(Intro) (Sound of a heavy storm rolling in, thick thunder claps) (Whispered Old Norse chant repeats like a curse): Gakk brott... gakk brott... (Heavy 808 sub-bass drops like a hammer) Yeah. You brought your poison to the wrong doorstep. Listen to the ground shake. (Verse 1) You tried to creep into my circle, trying to siphon the light, But you forgot I'm well acquainted with the depths of the night. I've got the roots of the world tree holding up my spine, And you are nothing but a trespasser crossing the line. You want to test my sovereignty? You want to play with the spark? I’ve got ancient battalions waiting right in the dark. Your time is up, your lease is canceled, your energy's cheap— Now watch the iron gate slam while the shadows run deep. (Chorus - Multilingual Hook) Out of my circle, away from my sight, Gakk brott! Back to the shadows, out of my light! Your words have no anchor, your malice no hold, My spirit is iron, my boundaries are bold. By the thorn and the hammer, the strike and the stone, Izgoni! You are stripped of your power o'erthrown! Cross not my threshold, touch not my space, Take your foul energy out of this place. The door is now locked, the boundary is drawn— My fire is burning. Pack your bags and be gone! (Verse 2) (The trap hi-hats start rolling fast, sharp and aggressive) I don't need an explanation, I don't owe you a word, Your illusions are shattered, your complaints are unheard. Like a storm over the prairie, I am clearing the air, Leaving nothing but the ashes of your malice right there. You thought you could handle the weight of my crown? I’m the queen of this wilderness, I don't back down. So pull your anchors from my river, pack your malice away, The ancient tongues are speaking, and they've got nothing to say but— (Chorus - Multilingual Hook) Out of my circle, away from my sight, Gakk brott! Back to the shadows, out of my light! Your words have no anchor, your malice no hold, My spirit is iron, my boundaries are bold. By the thorn and the hammer, the strike and the stone, Izgoni! You are stripped of your power o'erthrown! Cross not my threshold, touch not my space, Take your foul energy out of this place. The door is now locked, the boundary is drawn— My fire is burning. Pack your bags and be gone! (Bridge - The Ancient Spell) (The hip-hop beat drops out completely. A heavy, primitive war-drum beats slowly. Layered vocal chants rise in a dark harmony) (Old Norse): Hér risti ek þér þurs! (Hair ris-tee ek thair thoorce! - "Here I carve the giant/thorn against you!") (Old Church Slavonic): Вонъ изъ сего дома! (Von iz se-go do-ma! - "Out of this house!") (Vocal build-up whispers): Pack your bags... pack your bags... Go. (Guitar Solo & Hard Beat Drop) (A menacing, distorted slide-guitar rips over an aggressive, booming dark trap beat) (Final Chorus) Out of my circle, away from my sight, Gakk brott! Back to the shadows, out of my light! Your words have no anchor, your malice no hold, My spirit is iron, my boundaries are bold! By the thorn and the hammer, the strike and the stone, Izgoni! You are stripped of your power o'erthrown! The door is now locked, the boundary is drawn— My fire is burning. Pack your bags and be gone! (Outro) (Beat drops to a low, vibrating hum. Sound of crows flying overhead) Gakk brott. It’s over. Izgoni. The gate is shut.