U.s.a en Peter Schilling

At the highest point I stood,
awaiting winters disciples
By the time of the fullmoon
I met the wind

Like a coat it swep over me,
the northern wind
It took me where no man had been,
to the lands of christian sin

Over icy lands we rode
I saw the seeds we had sown
Through bloodred skies we marched
Leaving our mark

I truly rode the infernal forces,
now one of them was mine
One of four secured
the rest I'll rule in time

A travel in ancient times,
I rode the icewinds