[Intro]
[One natural horn states the three-note Gjallarhorn motif; floor toms answer like approaching hooves.]

[Choir]
Root and rafter, ring and road,
Break beneath the battle load.
Shield and spindle, sea and stone,
Hear the horn through flesh and bone.

[Chorus]
When the Gjallarhorn sounds, let the nine worlds know,
The root will split and the red seas grow.
When the Gjallarhorn sounds, every oath comes due,
Gold turns black beneath a blood-red blue.
One breath over heaven, one blow over ground—
There is no second dawn when the Gjallarhorn sounds.

[Verse 1]
I stood where the burning bridge bends high,
With frost on the rail and blood in the sky.
My ear heard hooves in the roots below,
A hammerless thunder, deliberate and slow.
Roosters cried warning from hall and grave,
The ash tree shuddered from crown to cave.
No raven brought counsel, no rune replied;
The watchman knew what the wise denied.

[Pre-Chorus]
The wolf drew breath in an iron den,
The sea rolled backward and rose again.
I raised the horn where the north wind drowned—
Then heaven leaned close for the final sound.

[Chorus]
When the Gjallarhorn sounds, let the nine worlds know,
The root will split and the red seas grow.
When the Gjallarhorn sounds, every oath comes due,
Gold turns black beneath a blood-red blue.
One breath over heaven, one blow over ground—
There is no second dawn when the Gjallarhorn sounds.

[Verse 2]
In Asgard, the benches scraped the floor,
Old scars woke under the mail they wore.
In Jötunheim, ice cracked white,
And giants looked south toward a growing light.
Hel opened doors with a rusted key;
Dead hands gathered beside the quay.
Across Midgard, every mother heard
A cup ring once with no hand near it.

[Instrumental]
[Low strings develop the horn motif while tremolo guitars climb against descending brass.]

[Bridge]
I did not call them to glory or gold,
I called every debt that the ages hold.
I called the spear and the serpent’s spine,
The swordless hand and the severed line.
The horn took breath from my guarded chest—
One note for war, and none for rest.

[Buildup]
Name the wolf.
Name the flame.
Name the dead
Who sail without name.
Raise the shield.
Lock the gate.
Every road
Now runs to fate.

[Final Chorus]
When the Gjallarhorn sounds, every locked chain fails,
The dead take the oars and the fire takes sails.
When the Gjallarhorn sounds, even gods must bleed,
Knowledge breaks under hunger and need.
One breath over heaven, one wound through the ground—
The worlds march to Vígríðr when the Gjallarhorn sounds.

[Outro]
[The choir holds the final vowel while the horn motif returns once, lower and unresolved.]

The horn was heard.
The hour has found us.
No second breath.
No road around us.