Riding towards the horizon   Upon the monumental rocks, awaiting   the end of a dishonourable life,   I perceive my morality fading to   a weakly seeming substance,   climbing towards my yer unsealed   faith, I arrive (faith arrives)      Staring into the abyss of Midgard,   above, the Angels of Asgard   and the armour of Loges child.   I´m losing myself in an odyssey through   the bottomless   depth of my spiteful soul.      At the end, the will to die.   My nag becomes restive,   I open up my eyes   and spread out my arms:   "God of gods, take my inglorious soul!   here is nothing left, for me..."      God of gods, ...      My hands are longing for the lance   and aim at my vulnerable essence.      God of gods, ...      As I lift to strike...   A sudden lightning bannes my glace.