Lyrics
[Verse 1]
In the womb of the tempest, we were born,
Iron hearts beat to the thunder’s song.
Waves like mountain giants rise,
To grasp our fate under storm-lit skies.
Our oars clash with the ocean’s roar,
As we chase the drum of war.
[Pre-Chorus]
Lightning carves the night's dark veil,
A path of fire, fierce and frail.
In the jaws of the deep, we find our test,
Better to die in battle, than in water's cold caress.
[Chorus]
Row, warriors, through the wrathful seas,
Beneath the storm's almighty decree.
Odin calls from the halls of slain,
Not by waves subdued, but by swords we claim.
Forge ahead, let the thunder cry,
In Valhalla’s grace, we live or die.
[Verse 2]
Sea-spray lashes like a whiplash scorn,
Our ship a spear in the tempest torn.
The sky's rage a challenge to our might,
We, shadows merging with the encroaching night.
Each stroke a plea to the gods of war,
For glory reached on a distant shore.
(destitutis ventis, remos adhibe)
(destitutis ventis, remos adhibe)
(destitutis ventis)
(REMOS ADHIBE!)
[Breakdown]
[orchestral breakdown]
[Chorus]
Row, warriors, through the wrathful seas,
Beneath the storm's almighty decree.
Odin calls from the halls of slain,
Not by waves subdued, but by swords we claim.
Forge ahead, let the thunder cry,
In Valhalla’s grace, we live or die.
[Bridge]
A ship of swords, we cleave the night,
Each flash of lightning, our guiding light.
The ocean’s wrath, our solemn forge,
From icy grips, fierce warriors emerge.
[acoustic guitar]
[Outro]
So we row with the storm our anvil,
And the winds, our hammer’s stroke.
To the halls of the fallen, we aspire,
Through the tempest’s heart, we evoke.
[Chorus]
Row, warriors, through the wrathful seas,
Beneath the storm's almighty decree.
Odin calls from the halls of slain,
Not by waves subdued, but by swords we claim.
Forge ahead, let the thunder cry,
In Valhalla’s grace, we live or die.
[Bridge]
A ship of swords, we cleave the night,
Each flash of lightning, our guiding light.
The ocean’s wrath, our solemn forge,
From icy grips, fierce warriors emerge.
[Outro]
So we row with the storm our anvil,
And the winds, our hammer’s stroke.
To the halls of the fallen, we aspire,
Through the tempest’s heart, we evoke.
