Negrasálmur. Úts. Egill Rúnar Friðleifsson

My Lord, what a morning,
my Lord, what a morning,
my Lord, what a morning
when the stars begin to fall.

You´ll hear the trumpet sound
to wake the nations underground.
Looking in my Gods right hand
when the stars begin to fall.

My Lord, what a morning,
my Lord, what a morning,
my Lord, what a morning
when the stars begin to fall.

You´ll hear the sinner moan
to wake the nations underground.
Looking in my Gods right hand
when the stars begin to fall.