Last Viking's Stand - PowerAIgen - Power Metal Music

Hey all! Hope you liked the song and leave a like and a comment if you enjoyed it. #vikings #metal #powermetal #music Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/3UZ0v... Apple Music:   / poweraigen   Lyrics: From the fjords of frozen fire he came, A wolf beneath the northern flame, Steel in hand, exile crowned by fate, Through the gates of Miklagard he walked in state. In the halls of the Eastern Emperor’s guard, Where the golden towers kissed the stars, He carved his name in blood and oath— Harald, the thunder the Southlands loathed. From Byzantine Empire to the ice-bound shore, He gathered the storm, he called for war, The sea-kings whispered of his return— A dragon’s heart forever burns. Now the ravens circle high above, Over shields that gleam in dying sun, The Norns have woven crimson thread— A crown of iron, a bed of red. Raise the banner of the Northwind sky! Hear the warhorn’s final cry! On English fields our fates collide— We ride to glory, we ride to die! Stand as one in the shieldwall tight— Sons of Odin, sons of might! For the last great Viking calls our name— Through blood and fire, eternal flame! King of Norway, sea-wolf crowned, His longships cut without a sound, Toward the throne across the foam, To claim a rival’s distant home. In the year of fate, one-zero-six-six, Three kings bound in mortal tricks, At Battle of Stamford Bridge they stand— Steel and death in Saxon land. No mail upon his mighty chest, No fear within his warrior’s breast, The river ran with northern pride— But destiny marched at England’s side. Now the horns cry out in dread, The sky burns gold above the dead, A single arrow splits the day— And finds the king who led the way. Raise the banner of the Northwind sky! Hear the warhorn’s final cry! On English fields our fates collide— We ride to glory, we ride to die! Stand as one in the shieldwall tight— Sons of Odin, sons of might! For the last great Viking calls our name— Through blood and fire, eternal flame! See him standing, tall and proud, Laughing fierce and laughing loud, A vuh-RAN-jee-uhn blade in weathered hand, The last free king of a dying land. From Oslo’s throne to a foreign shore, He sought a crown and so much more, But all the sagas end the same— In ash and wind and fading flame. The Viking Age in twilight cast, A roaring storm that could not last, One final charge, one final breath— One final dance with waiting death. Raise the banner—let it fly! Though our king has fallen, we defy! Through the storm of Saxon rain, We carve his name in endless flame! Stand as one though hope has died— In his shadow still we ride! For the last great Viking gave his breath— To thunder loud in the halls of death! On Stamford Bridge the ravens feed, On broken oath and broken creed, No dragon sails the western tide— The North Sea weeps for fallen pride. In Valhalla’s hall his voice resounds, Above the clash of timeless crowns, Harald Hardrada—storm made king— The last great Viking… …will rise no more.