The wintry Earth enshrouded in a shield of broken 
leaves
As barren trees weep their last tears, and branches 
break and fall
The Sun which lies so distantly upon the bleak horizon
And whistling winds bring snow and hail, like no man 
can recall
The mountains offer no defense from blizzards so 
malevolant
This vehemence and fury of the last great squall
Winter spirits hold your will with an icy grip
As they pull you to your dying battle under thrall
Ride, along the twisting broken trail
With sword in hand, you'll struggle forth through storm
Ride, through deepest snow and highest peaks
Spears of ice will deal the final blow
Sound the horns, grind your sword blade
This Fimbulwinter, will pave the way for war
An arrow flies through falling snow and hits its frosty 
mark
The fallen warrior grips his wound, and stumbles to his 
knees
His blood which flows into the snow will chill and run 
as ice
His dying shout is borne away upon a breeze
No pyre built to mark his passing, no fire set nor lit 
no flame
No logs are felled for funeral rites, no use for dying 
trees
This maddened frenzy tears its way through villages and 
towns
As battles break out all around and lifeblood starts to 
freeze
Winter
The frozen moon looks down on us in shame
Winter
The land of mist is rising