Hastings

Pounding hooves and marching feet,

soldiers ride to their defeat.

Shining swords in the summer sun,

noble lords on horses run.

Helmets glint on ivory steeds,

bards sing of noble deeds.

(Chorus)

Holding strong to leather reins,

fighting heroes and roaring thanes.

Swords clash and blood runs cold,

shields flash held by knights of old.

Rush of war and blind of rage,

trapped beasts inside a cage.

(2nd verse)

Conciousless prince and soulless king,

shut in with jewels and golden rings.

Riches and land on the horizon loom,

but in tides of war men may speak too soon.

On mountains high and valleys low,

walking to death and conquest they go.

(Chorus)

Holding strong to leather reins,

fighting heroes and roaring thanes.

Swords clash and blood runs cold,

shields flash held by knights of old.

Rush of war and blind of rage,

trapped beasts inside a cage.

(Break)

Crash!

Slash!

Break!

Take!

(3rd verse)

Breaking bone and rolling head,

under stone the men lay dead.

Trodden grass over open field,

weapons of death they coldly weild. 

On graves of grass and rock they lie,

to their fates they pass after the die.

(Chorus)

Holding strong to leather reins,

fighting heroes and roaring thanes.

Swords clash and blood runs cold,

sheilds flash held by knights of old.

Rush of war and blind of rage,

trapped beasts inside a cage.

To war,

to death,

they ride.