[Intro]
[Downpicked guitars lock to marching timpani while muted cymbal strokes imitate a blade striking shields.]

[Verse 1]
South of all weather, where black anvils ring,
We waited beneath an unsetting spring.
No grass marked the season, no river ran clear;
The rock sweated iron through furnace and year.
Surtr stood taller than towers of coal,
A noon-colored sword in his charcoal-black hold.
He drew it once slowly; the cavern walls shone,
And every fire-being rose from the stone.

[Pre-Chorus]
No trumpet of Asgard commanded our line;
We marched to the horn as dry timber takes flame.
The bridge in the distance burned green, gold and white—
Our boots brought the south and our blades carried light.

[Chorus]
This is the march of Muspelheim, measured in flame,
Shield rims run molten and mountains lose name.
This is the march of Muspelheim, furnace and file;
The road turns to glass for mile after mile.
Surtr bears daylight sharpened and drawn—
We march through the rainbow and murder the dawn.

[Verse 2]
At Bifröst, the colors bent under our tread,
Blue cracked to cinder and yellow ran red.
Heimdall’s old roadway groaned over the void;
Each jeweled foundation was split and destroyed.
Behind us came sparks with the faces of men,
Ahead waited gods who would not rise again.
Surtr touched one bright edge to the bridge’s high frame;
The arch gave a scream and collapsed into flame.

[Choir]
Step over silver.
Step over gold.
Heat has no mercy.
Fire grows old.
Step over color.
Step into war.
Muspelheim marches.
Open the door.

[Chorus]
This is the march of Muspelheim, measured in flame,
Shield rims run molten and mountains lose name.
This is the march of Muspelheim, furnace and file;
The road turns to glass for mile after mile.
Surtr bears daylight sharpened and drawn—
We march through the rainbow and murder the dawn.

[Instrumental]
[Low brass repeats the marching ostinato while violas and guitars trade the rising fire figure.]

[Bridge]
Freyr waits ahead with no sword in his hand;
He knows what was traded, and we know where he stands.
The bride for the blade, and the debt they have made,
Will meet in the payment that waits on the plain.
Surtr does not threaten or bargain or boast;
He walks like a verdict at the head of the host.

[Buildup]
Heat in the buckle.
Ash in the lung.
Names of the living
Burn from the tongue.
Sword over shoulder.
Sun on the rim.
The plain waits northward.
We carry it to him.

[Final Chorus]
This is the march of Muspelheim, rank after rank,
Over the bright bridge whose jeweled colors sank.
This is the march of Muspelheim, furnace and file;
Vígríðr glows red for mile after mile.
Surtr bears daylight, merciless, drawn—
Behind him comes midnight; before him, no dawn.

[Outro]
[The full band ends, leaving timpani footsteps and one sustained viola note scorched by bow pressure.]

The bridge is behind us.
The plain lies ahead.
The sword carries sunlight.
The sunlight burns red.
