The Norns (5:06)

Intro

(Urðr! Verðandi! Skuld!)

No weapon touches us — we hold every thread...

(Hu-ha!) Beneath the third root — the well — the bed —

We water the world-tree while the gods are fed —

(Three weavers!) The loom was running before a word was said...

Verse 1

Urðarbrunnr cold beneath the deepest root-stone,

White clay and sacred water — that's our flute-tone.

We three sit where the Norns have always kept our booth-home —

Every thread a life — the loom our only true-home.

Urðr holds the past — every thread already run —

Verðandi holds the present — every thread still being spun —

Skuld holds the scissors — every thread not yet begun —

Three hands on the same loom since creation was undone.

We water Yggdrasil before the ravens take their morning —

White clay poured to keep the world-tree from its own mourning.

The ash would rot without our tending — without warning —

Even Óðinn's tree needs what the well-women are pouring.

We attend each birth before the infant finds a name —

Carve the fate-runes in the dark before the candle-flame.

Some threads long, some threads short — the loom plays every game —

We don't mourn the cut ones — every cutting runs the same.

Pre-Chorus

Óðinn came in disguise — thought we wouldn't recognize (recognize)

The one eye gave him up before he crossed the well-rise.

We told him what he needed through the Völva's exercise —

Everything he knows about his ending — we authorize. (uh!)

Chorus

Urðr — Verðandi — Skuld — three names, one loom (one loom!)

Every life that ever lived we measured in this room (in this room!)

Gods and men and serpents — all beneath our doom (our doom!)

The Norns were weaving long before and after the tomb! (Hu-ha!)

Verse 2

We set the berserker's thread before the bear-shirt fell —

We stretched the nine steps out before the thunder-bell.

We wound the wolf-thread into Gleipnir — felt the sell —

We cut Baldur's thread, felt nothing — wove it straight to Hel.

We spun the blood-feud thread before the hall was burning —

We loomed the draugr's choice — the mound — the dead returning.

We counted Harald's thread — September — no adjourning —

The skald who wrote the saga read the thread we were turning.

We sat at the dragon-root while Níðhöggr kept gnawing —

We stretched the serpent's coil while the ocean-walls were drawing.

We wove the seeress blind before the vision started calling —

We strung the Allfather's eye-price — watched it hit the water falling.

We set the sword-thread Freyr gave up for his giantess —

We loomed the one hand Tyr paid — ancient quietness.

Surtr's thread runs fire-orange — oldest we've yet witnessed —

Every song you've heard us weave — that thread runs through this.

Pre-Chorus

Óðinn came in disguise — thought we wouldn't recognize (recognize)

The one eye gave him up before he crossed the well-rise.

We told him what he needed through the Völva's exercise —

Everything he knows about his ending — we authorize. (uh!)

Chorus

Urðr — Verðandi — Skuld — three names, one loom (one loom!)

Every life that ever lived we measured in this room (in this room!)

Gods and men and serpents — all beneath our doom (our doom!)

The Norns were weaving long before and after the tomb! (Hu-ha!)

Bridge

You want to know what the loom sounds like running?

(what does it sound like?)

Not silence — something older — always humming —

(always humming...)

Not music — something that the notes keep becoming —

(keep becoming...)

The sound of every fate at once — that's the drumming.

Ragnarök came through the loom like any other —

(like any other...)

We wove the fire-giant and we wove the wolf-mother —

(wove them all...)

We wove the Allfather's end into the swallow —

(into the wolf...)

We wove the new green earth into the follow.

The loom never stopped —

(never stopped...)

When the nine worlds burned we changed the fiber —

(changed the fiber...)

New thread — new world — same three hands beside her.

(same three hands...)

You've been listening to our work for twenty-three songs entire —

(Skál to the weavers! Skál — they hold every fire!)

(Urðr — Verðandi — Skuld — the loom runs higher!)

Drop — Instrumental

Chorus

Urðr — Verðandi — Skuld — three names, one loom (one loom!)

Every life that ever lived we measured in this room (in this room!)

Gods and men and serpents — all beneath our doom (our doom!)

The Norns were weaving long before and after the tomb! (Hu-ha!)

Outro

(Urðr! Verðandi! Skuld!)

The loom doesn't stop...

(Hu-ha!)

New world. New thread.

Same three hands.

Same well.

We were weaving before you listened.

(We are weaving still.)