about
On the island of Björkö near Stockholm was a small city, the center of a massive trading area in the 8th century. It disappeared mysteriously a hundred years later, perhaps decimated by an enemy attack. Some years ago, I spent a magical summer afternoon on this enchanting island. But in the shadows of the beauty whispered the ghosts of the past. They spoke of families fleeing across the frozen windswept lake, illuminated by the towering firestorm that was once their city. Two utterly irreconcilable experiences. My song of Birka.
lyrics
LYRICS (follow strings)
start: 00:56
Run child, run away
Hell is coming, and hell we must pay
For the Norsemen are raging, through wind and through snow
With their weapons of steel, forged in the fires below
Run, run, the sky is burning
The Hammer of Thor, the thunder of war
And we'll all be forgotten - just - dry dust on a hill
So run child, run far from it all
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Come in from the cold
Why you're only 9 years old
Dry your tears by our fire
You look so worn and so tired
And sleep....
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Run child, run away
The Norsemen are here and here they will stay
Your father is fighting and fighting he'll fall
So run child, run child, run far away from it all
Run child, I'll love no other
But you my child, now run far away
No wait hold me, hold me
Now - slip under the wall
I'll meet you in Valhalla's Hall.
credits
released July 29, 2017
Artwork, composition and lyrics © Timothy Wenzel
license
all rights reserved