See the idle arrow that lingers on the string

The swift bringer of downfall unto beast and peasant, earl and king

The archer knows the language of any beast of prey

A poet of the arcane who doth rhyme devoid of words to say

A hornbow for the hunter of Scythian descent

The recurve doth reflect the carmine glowing of the moon crescent

The blood of our tribe is bound to death and war

Today, tomorrow, coming years as well as in the days of yore

I am the last of the dragonriders, from the snowmounds of Jotunheim

By the will of the great decider, my bow is my claim to fame

Here are legends in the making, and the gryphon guard the flame

My fate is for the taking, and Odin knows my name

Atland disappeared, taken by the sea

And vanished with the sun-god to the oceans of eternity

The hounds of Holy Bridget, came smiling at first

But soon the face of greed displayed the sanctity of blood-thirst

A glimpse into the future is an echo from the past

A lesson learned in great pain, but alas forgotten twice as fast

People change their values, kinsmen doth betray

But the bloodline is forever bound to drop upon the thick of the fray

I am the last of the dragonriders, from the snowmounds of Jotunheim

By the will of the great decider, my bow is my claim to fame

Here are legends in the making, and the gryphon guard the flame

My fate is for the taking, and Odin knows my name

I’ll see my bane before me, upon the last of the dragonships

And I shall die in the waves of glory, with my bow in an iron grip

Like the oceans raging fury, shall my final arrow slip

And my ending shall be gory, with Odin’s name on my lips

I am the last of the dragonriders, from the snowmounds of Jotunheim

By the will of the great decider, my bow is my claim to fame

Here are legends in the making, and the gryphon guard the flame

My fate is for the taking, and Odin knows my name