Those who win in battle 
May not always win the war 
When one is not forgotten 
Blood is spilt once more 
Power begets power, 
and wisdom comes from age 
youth may wear a golden crown 
and hoist a golden blade 

All was naught, but not begotten 
of the axe and lonesome shield 
hail the king, and all who’ve fallen 
in the green and sparkling field 
hear the cry of many brethren 
feel the hearts beating as one 
pound your breast and raise your weapon 
whether battle’s lost or won 

(chorus) 
tempo rising, spirits flying 
flash of silver, flash of gold 
crashing drums and crashing armor 
ringing in the hall 
joy and mirth amidst the chaos 
rumbling hooves and tumbling wheels 
give the poets what they’re wanting 
legends for the hall 

Whither you go, on your journey 
by the gods or your own path 
many tales of glorious combat 
keep your company on your way

Valhalla

Shred