Fathers of seven forged by fire and stone Born to the iron mountains they now claim as home Bound to the will of hate, by an ancient smith of yore Forgotten they lie, beneath their shameful lore Awaiting their song from the timeless hall Maker of moon and stars, stands fierce and tall Driven by a ruthless rage, his molten hammer flies Weeping with great remorse, his iron hammer dives Through the misty clouds, crashing with thunderous power Pleading with mercy, the seven tear and cower Unbarring sorrow loosens their merciful hold Horns sound in the distant halls, a new journey untold Seven axes granted to seven fathers, wise and bold Unyielding to the dark and corrupt, warriors of gold Crafted by the storms of strife and stone Baring snow and ice, their resilient blood is sewn Driven by a ruthless rage, his molten hammer flies Weeping with great remorse, his iron hammer dives Towards the rolling hills, bellowed with mighty courage Under the mountains, in the darkness lying among the stone