WHEN VALHALLA FAILS

The dying die

A thousand lonely corpses lie

On the bitter earth.

Goddess, come down

From the spacious halls

On a charger, come down

Where warrior falls

Ride, come down

The lighted halls

Take these soldiers to rest

To Valhalla’s walls.

But this is a raving, a fever, a dream

Valhalla’s myth, like the rest.

They’ll not come for the noble

The honored and blest.

They rot in the damp.

Die in the dust

Their bodies are still

And their weapons rust.