Amon Amarth

A storm rolls in from the sea
Covering the land with black thunder clouds
Rain whips the ground at their feet
As they come ashore in this foreign land
Thunder brakes the silence Of five hundred men assembled on shore
Gazing through the misty rain
At the mountain not a mile away
So dark and silent it stands there
The mighty AMON AMRATH
Reaching for the cloudcloked skies
So grim and fearful in might
With the wind in their backs they start walking
Decisive men of the north
They strive through this darkend land
With only mount doom in their sight
The closer they get to the mountain
The clearer their eyes can see
A forest of one thousand spears awaiting
Awaiting the battle that will be
A cry of war emerges
Echoes over the field
Boldley charging the enemy lines