Weeeeeee
come from the land of the ice and snow
from the midnite sun where the hot springs blow
How soft your fields, so green
can whisper tales of gore, of how we calmed the tides of war
We are your overlords
On we sweep with,
with threshing oar
Our only goal will be the western shore
S-so now you better stop and rebuild all your ruins
for peace and trust can winthe day despite of all you're losing