Through a dark and desolate valley he walks Pale, flickering fires light the way Along an ice cold river lies his path The sky is of darkest grey
A cold wind pierce through his bones And the sharp rocks cut his feet His clothes and skin are ripped by thorns His eyes appear to bleed
The land is dead and dry The water is poisonous Unknown creatures howling to the sky Blood chilling and ravenous
The air is thick and dense A smell of rotting flesh Every breath is like one thousand knives Cutting through his chest
Black birds of prey circle the sky He hears the shadows moan He sees pale faces pass him by But he walkds this path alone
Darkness fills his heart with chilling fear A nameless fear he cannot quell How did he ever end up here? This place where death seems to dwell
He repeats the question in his weary mind The riddle gives him no rest Yet he knows the answer deep inside He´s been touched by the chill of death
Enchating voices urge him on Though he wants to turn around They sing to him with soothing words A chilling, frightening sound
A cold blue ligh shimmer ahead Where a mountain reaches for the sky Nidafjell, mountain of the dead Terrifying it´s might
He approach the gates His heart is cold He understands all to well She awaits him The truth unfolds He |
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