Born of Thunder

Wherever I tread on this haunted, holy ground

I look to the skies above,

the clouds armed with storm...

Born of thunder is he who rides

Down from the tempest's burning soul,

To Midgard with a hammer in his hand

On his chariot made of living fire...

He's the protector of men:

His name is a magic word;

He's a god come from on high-

He's the one...

Whenever I see the glory that dawns each morn,

Frozen like steel, enchanted by Northern light...

Born of thunder is he who rides

Down from the tempest's burning soul,

To Midgard with a hammer in his hand

On his chariot made of living fire...

He's the protector of men:

His name is a magic word;

He's a god come from on high-

He's the one...

Robbed in such splendor,

Immortal eyes bedewed

With the gift of prophecy...

Where I tread on this haunted, holy ground

I took to the skies above, the clouds armed with storm...

Born of thunder is he who rides

Down from the tempest's burning soul,

To Midgard with a hammer in his hand

On his chariot made of living fire...