The Warriors Of Modern Death
Ihsahn
All raised
To be men
Given image and path
Idolised warriors
Bright steel
Burning rage
Never too late to try
Stand tall
Never plead
Live and let die
I see the spirit
Of these ancestors
And reconsider the faith
A primitive sword
Can not win my war
Cold fury
Flaring eyes
Calculated verbal gun
My pride
Justified
Stiritual steel shines bright
Beyond the sun
The pride of the warrior
Is far from dead
The colours of death
Are still black and red
Though modernised
Blood will be shed