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TýrTýr 

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Týr

Týr (locally: [tʰʊɪːɹ]) (stylized as TÝR) is a folk metal band from the Faroe Islands. Their subject matter revolves almost entirely around old Nordic lore, mythology, and history, taking their name from the Norse god of law and justice. They signed a worldwide deal with Austria's Napalm Records in early 2006, while signed to the Faroese record label Tutl. In September of 2012, they signed a three album deal with Metal Blade Records. more »

Year:

2003

7:44

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Nightfall in my hall, all I can do is recall as I sit alone in the
Darkness, I confess, my part was not any less than whose I was forced to impress

It was a year ago, I left my heart behind to return, with a longing did I burn, I meant to return
And now a year has gone and everything has changed for the worse and it's on me like a curse, things changed for the worse

Sentenced to the death by the Thing, four conspirators 'gainst our king
Led by Son of the Wolf they're just four blood brothers going over the edge

Eggin tykist mær bert ein gátt, sorgin skipar lagnutáttin
Sjálvur yrkti eg niðurlag, frítt er Eystfellið frá at fara
Brátt er vísan øll og tøgn, hoyrdist tá ið kalda lagnan
Leiddi teir í Runsival, meg bert niðan á hægsta valaknúk

I see no other way than on, what will they say when I am gone
I want my memory to be mild, I want it to glow
Upon my pages blood is stained, this way some honour will remain
But I did cause the death of a child both you and I know

And when they came to bleed me dry, I only wonder why did I
On that Easter morn' for the love of my life not vie
Let them kill me just the same, I should have lied and played their game
It is a lesser sin than what I have done since that day

It won't go away, nothing I can say save lay down and pray
What came from within, what came from without,
I can't be about, myself do I doubt ever since that day

Sentenced to the death by the Thing, four conspirators 'gainst our king
Led by Son of the Wolf they're just four blood brothers going over the edge

Eggin tykist mær bert ein gátt, sorgin skipar lagnutáttin
Sjálvur yrkti eg niðurlag, frítt er Eystfellið frá at fara
Brátt er vísan øll og tøgn, hoyrdist tá ið kalda lagnan
Leiddi teir í Runsival, meg bert niðan á hægsta valaknúk

New day, we all pay for our mistakes on our way; lead me up the hillside at
Daybreak, my mistake, don't shed a tear at my wake, just believe it's for my own sake

No turning back now
No tears at my wake, I'll pay for my vow
Just march up the hill till we reach the end
Transmigration calls, I long to ascend
It's for my own sake

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