You walk where the north wind blows cold.
A story of iron and gold.
The salt on your skin turns to ice.
You pay the old winter man's price.
Cold as the deep ocean floor.
Locked like a heavy iron door.
Frost on the rune of the blade.
A debt that will never be paid.
The hilt is a jagged grey stone.
You stand in the wasteland alone.
The edge is a sliver of glass.
Watching the white seasons pass.
Cold as the deep ocean floor.
Locked like a heavy iron door.
Frost on the rune of the blade.
A debt that will never be paid.
Blue light on the etched silver vein.
Cutting through the freezing rain.
The grip is a leather-bound bind.
Leaving the warm harbor behind.
Sinking down in the heavy snow.
Where the black water currents flow.
Hold the metal tight in your hand.
Stranger in a forgotten land.
The lamp in the tower is dim.
The frost reaches over the rim.
You feel the sharp bite of the steel.
Turning the heavy iron wheel.
Cold as the deep ocean floor.
Locked like a heavy iron door.
Frost on the rune of the blade.
A debt that will never be paid.
The wind howls a low heavy sound.
Buried in the hard frozen ground.
You lift up the edge to the sky.
Watching the white eagles fly.
Cold as the deep ocean floor.
Locked like a heavy iron door.
Frost on the rune of the blade.
A debt that will never be paid.
Just the frost on the steel.
Just the frost on the steel.
