Besatt

In the times of moral fall
Times of mayhem, filth and false
Your life was a battle-field
A ship at the high seas
Your words were not forgotten
They still echo in my mind
With the wave and hum of the sea
With the lightning in the sky
You were the son of pure Viking blood
You were a warrior to you existence
I still hear the hoofs of horses
Crackling of fire, sound of horn
I see the war and the swords of steel
Christian blood upon my hands
I hear flapping of the sails
Smell the scent of the sea
Feel the hail lashing my face