Woorden: The Sword. The Frost Giant's Daughter.

Waiting for dawn on the snow covered tundra
Your foe's lying dead at your feet
Look to the sky for a good star to guide you
Pray that the morning you'll meet

Tresses of fire, skin white as snow
Promising pleasure, she brings only woe

In the far northern reaches
Where dark mountains rise high
Enchantress beseeches
That you give up your life

Look to the sky for a good star to guide you
Pray that the morning you'll meet

Witch of the wastes dancing on snows
Lord of the gallows takes what he's owed
A wisp of gossamer is all that remains