I want to believe Emerald sky open your mouth Ginnungagap, return as a vortex Release Surt, with flaming sword From Muspell - like Eden Pour out the wrath of the almighty The All-Father who sees Urð, Verðandi, Skuld Return the corpse swallower Hraesvelg, creator of wind -Not the Prince of the Power of the Air Let San Francisco be salted Like Carthage New York City as Sodom an Gomorrah Dropped from Bifröst to Hel Forgive my skeptic heart Laying in sackcloth and ashes And please, no creepy donkeys prophesying Or a bald Sybil among ruined wheat fields Bring Iðavöll The plain that renews itself