---

Being here among the saints

We don't need our armoured friends

Holy piece surround us and I close my tired eyes

If You can imagine paradise...

Nothing else may hurt You and Your head is safe at least

You achiver Valhalla-holy piece...

Frosty air from fields of snow

Hills of ice You used to go-to

All of this's behind You and You know-it's time to rest

Oldmen's choir's inviting-be our guest...

Take Your sword, Your helmet-follow them to gates of calm

Where You'll find the harbour-sense of all...

But on the Earth they're still spilling the blood

Choosing between doom and evil creation

Crescent and cross, before shot You must load

It is their aim and the future's direction