Where Death Seems To Dwell

"Through a dark and desolate valley he walks

Pale, flickering fires light the way

Along an ice cold river lies his path

The sky is of darkest grey



A cold wind pierce through his bones

And the sharp rocks cut his feet

His clothes and skin are ripped by thorns

His eyes appear to bleed"



The land is dead and dry

The water is poisonous

Unknown creatures howling to the sky

Blood chilling and ravenous



The air is thick and dense

A smell of rotting flesh

Every breath is like one thousand knives

Cutting through his chest



Black birds of prey circle the sky

He hears the shadows moan

He sees pale faces pass him by

But he walkds this path alone



Darkness fills his heart with chilling fear

A nameless fear he cannot quell

How did he ever end up here?

This place where death seems to dwell



He repeats the question in his weary mind

The riddle gives him no rest

Yet he knows the answer deep inside

He's been touched by the chill of death



Enchating voices urge him on

Though he wants to turn around

They sing to him with soothing words

A chilling, frightening sound



A cold blue ligh shimmer ahead

Where a mountain reaches for the sky

Nidafjell, mountain of the dead

Terrifying it's might



He approach the gates

His heart is cold

He understands all to well

She awaits him

The truth unfolds

He's been sent to Nifelhel