A great power ahead,
leaving fire and death.
The barbarian is rising again.
High in the mountains he's born.
Approaching like storm,
leaving only ruins and pain

Holding his sword,
he was ready for war.
The cold steel in his iron fist.
Blue eyes full of rage and fire,
heart, chased by a deadly desire.
With great power he was blessed.

Conan, The Great,
so strong and so brave,
waited the gods for a sign.
"Oh, mighty Crom,
to kill I am born,
the glory tonight will be mine"