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 

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 
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 
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 
chilling, frightening sound 

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 [bad word] unfolds 
He’s been sent to Nifelhel