The blade swishing in the air
Spinning around its axis
Before you cover your back
A hit of skin, wood and scrap
The wolf catches the scent
In wait for its prey
Stalks it cunningly
Then hunts it down and snaps its back
Stand up above the abyss
Saddle the iron horse
Take your post in the pack
Heathen beast—laughs in the face of death
An iron mace rises above the skyline
A fire stroke
Drive that quenches your thirst
Flames breathing the fuel
Flies forward and laughs in the face of death—heathen beast
Slip into a raging iron mass, after the first hammer blow
Galloping with the speed of an arrow
Tear out the flesh, slurp the blood of your enemy
Spare him not and loudly mock the gods of the inferior ones
With a fresh dose of evil
The ongoing march of the army
War, black death, hurt, starvation
Purifying disasters
Precise job of killing machine
For the hungry mouth of hell
Laughs in the face of death—heathen beast
