The skies are clear, channel is open,
Time is once again our enemy, brace the shields, strike the sail, pull the oars,

Our kind no longer welcome,
Pagan pride replaced with pious lies,
Old ways rife with honour and strife,
Replaced with notions of eternal life,
Bowed and cowed at the feet of a god,
Who guides the flocks of the Nazarene,
To the shores of the Geats, once so serene,
Why was this sickness not foreseen?
Light doth fade, Doth give sway, Tis naught but shade,


Time is once again our enemy, Raise your oars, pull the sail, gather shields,
Helena’s wounds are not healing,

From the backs of our family’s ships,
We strike for better lands,
That demand no obeisance,
But the wounds we bear from the stormy seas,
Have taken their toll on my beloved wife,
And I fear that I lack the required will,
To see the madness take her,
Does she recognize me still?

Row, the way back is closed,
Row, below are freezing waters,
Row, our sails are tatters,
Row, the way back is closed,

These families depend on me,
To do what must be done,
To halt the festering,
That has taken my wife,

Only one way to prevent its spread,
One kiss goodbye look into her eyes,
Then her body falls beneath the waves,
Farewell Helena

Life will fade away,
The world is cold,
Signs of gods await,
We leave the grave,

Eyes of the Elders, Guide us home,
Dark of night is gone, For death sings its song