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