Bretwaldas Of Heathen Doom - The Droner In The Fog

At last upon the whale's road
On heathen tides
and winds that scream
Where potent murmers ride the haunted skies
and rune-wise prows eager for the shore

Beneath the ice-capped vaults of middle-earth
where sword wolves sail across infernal seas
By skill of sail, by force of oar,
by steel and sinew, raise the tide of gore!

Each fool's lament, a wasted breath
Our heroes leave a wake that bleeds
where mail clad axemen prowl perception's edge
In ragged mass, black ravens reap the wind

Ice and fire!