Born of Thunder (Folkodia)

Wherever I tread on this haunted, holy ground I look to the skies above, the clouds armed with storm... Born of thunder is he who rides Down from the tempest's burning soul, To Midgard with a hammer in his hand On his chariot made of living fire... He's the protector of men: His name is a magic word; He's a god come from on high- He's the one... Whenever I see the glory that dawns each morn, Frozen like steel, enchanted by Northern light... Born of thunder is he who rides Down from the tempest's burning soul, To Midgard with a hammer in his hand On his chariot made of living fire... He's the protector of men: His name is a magic word; He's a god come from on high- He's the one... Robbed in such splendor, Immortal eyes bedewed With the gift of prophecy... Where I tread on this haunted, holy ground I took to the skies above, the clouds armed with storm... Born of thunder is he who rides Down from the tempest's burning soul, To Midgard with a hammer in his hand On his chariot made of living fire...