[Intro]
[Printer trays strike a rigid rhythm while harmonium plays the recurring three-note motif.]

Badge to the reader, eye to the glass,
Allfather waiting for clearance to pass.
Coffee machine says error again.
Welcome, immortals. Please sign with a pen.

[Verse 1]
Fluorescent dawn on a carpet of gray,
My badge has rejected me twice today.
One eye reads figures projected tall,
The other was traded for knowing it all.
Gungnir stands harmless beside the screen,
A weapon reduced to corporate green.
Hugin marks losses in columns of red,
Munin corrects what the minutes have said.

[Pre-Chorus]
They ask me for vision, concise and clear,
No wolves, no blood and no fiscal fear.
They want the future polite and complete,
In twelve-point type on a one-page sheet.

[Chorus]
Welcome to Valhalla 3B,
Where the brave get badges, not eternity.
Take a chair, take a number, take responsibility.
Wisdom is billable by the hour,
Even gods kneel to purchasing power.
Welcome to Valhalla 3B.

[Verse 2]
The wall clock coughs at a quarter past nine,
A partner says, “Odin, your deck looks fine.”
He circles “legacy,” underlines “scale,”
Then asks why the end of the world sounds pale.
I mention the serpent, the wolf and the flame.
He changes each monster to “market headwind” by name.
The coffee machine gives one mechanical cry.
Two ravens keep typing and do not ask why.

[Pre-Chorus]
They want transformation measured in weeks,
A future that flatters whoever it speaks.
They want every warning sanded and sweet,
With action-point boxes beneath every sheet.

[Chorus]
Welcome to Valhalla 3B,
Where the brave get badges, not eternity.
Take a chair, take a number, take responsibility.
Wisdom is billable by the hour,
Even gods kneel to purchasing power.
Welcome to Valhalla 3B.

[Instrumental Break]
[Angular guitar trades short phrases with harmonium while bass and stapler clicks lock into the office rhythm.]

[Bridge]
Once kings left silver beneath my chair.
Now Finance disputes my taxi fare.
Once warriors trembled when ravens arrived.
Now both need approval for overtime logged at five.
I gave up an eye at the root of a tree.
They gave me a lanyard marked Temporary.

[Build-up]
The projector warms. The numbers grow.
A manager whispers, “Give them a show.”
I straighten the tie that is choking my throat.
Hugin opens the file. Munin finds the note.

[Final Chorus]
Welcome to Valhalla 3B,
Where the dead work late for productivity.
Take my spear, my ravens, my divinity.
Wisdom is billable by the hour,
Old roots move where no one can see.
Welcome to Valhalla 3B.

[Outro]
The meeting begins with a courteous tone.
Fourteen chairs, and I stand alone.
The coffee machine repeats its plea:
Error. Error. Valhalla 3B.
