Battle Field کے بول

Thunder, power, tearing the sky Tasty and sweet like the finest wine Light his muscles made of stone By the wind his long hair is blown (He's an eagle flying home) His eyes are cold (He's not afraid) If they want him (He's ready to fight) Rain baptise their chest Each stroke is anguish of power Fear around the land Without thinking he unsheathes his sword (All the power is blood) Tempest brings violence at night Come and salute the son of the dark Warrior, conqueror, wrath of the gods Sweat, rage, they're prepared to dance (He's the king of north) His eyes are cold (He's not afraid) If they want him (He's ready to fight) Rain baptise their chest Each stroke is anguish of power Fear around the land Without thinking he unsheathes his sword (All the power is blood)