Текст песни: Týr. Ólavur Riddararós - EP. Stýrisvolurin.

Og hvor i? enn klettum r??ur ei a vindi va
Teir hildu um styrisvol ta odnin leg?i a
"Legg upp i loti?," ropti ein og samdir teir
hala a styrisvol, men alt til fanytis

Lei?in er logd, i groti er hogd,
og eru vit nogd ta sognin er sogd

Og skri?ur tin knorrur fram ta? sama hvat tu vil
Teir bardust um styrisvol men einki ro?ur til
Og enn vit halda styrisvol eins og vit
halda vit eru fr?ls, tr?lborin ospurd so

Fjakka vit oll um kirkjugar?svoll
i oy?ini holl, um fjarblau fjoll

Tiltuska? av landnyr?ings odn, og vindurin
leikar i Mi?gar?i mol
Til Asgar?s har Askurin sto?, sum tr??rirnir
livsins i lotinum har blaktra?u ta

Fjakka vit oll um kirkjugar?svoll
i oy?ini holl, um fjarblau fjoll

og flotur, vitandi hvat mal vit megna livandi
Og feigdin dregur li?andi, vit vala henni
Tigandi a ting

Fjakka vit oll um kirkjugar?svoll
i oy?ini holl, um fjarblau fjoll

V?l vitandi langnunnar lei?, men gott er
ta? treysti? at val er i von
Oteljandi lei?irnar t?r, men ilt er ta?
treysti? at vali? er gjort, lei?in bert ein

Lei?in er logd, i groti er hogd
og eru vit nogd ta sognin er sogd

[Translation:]

And whoever reigns these cliffs, did not defeat the wind
They held the tiller when the storm broke loose
?Steer into the wind,? shouted one and united they
pulled the tiller, but all in vain

The course has been set, carved in stone
And are we satisfied when the tale is told

And does your ship advance regardless of what you want
They fought over the rudderless tiller
And still we hold the tiller as we
Think we are free, thrallborn unconsulted so

We all drift on the graveyard field
In desolate halls, about distant mountains

Drenched and weary by the northwestern
storm, and the winds rages in Midgard
To Asgard where the Ash stood, like the
threads of life then flapped in the breeze

We all drift on the graveyard field
In desolate halls, about distant mountains

And plains, knowing what goal we are capable of living
And destiny draws slowly, we drift to meet it

We all drift on the graveyard field
In desolate halls, about distant mountains

Well aware of the course of destiny but it is
comforting that choice is before us
Countless your possible courses, but
discomforting that the choice has been made,
only one course

The course has been set, carved in stone
And are we satisfied when the tale is told