Stormwind fill our sails,
And take us far from shore.

Far beyond the mountains,
And past horizons far.

One thousand ships to sail,
Guide your sons to distant lands.

Ten thousand men for battle,
Await the storm ahead.

Across the deep grey oceans,
Sweeping far and wide.

Beneath the blackened clouds,
Drifting with the tide.

Ten thousand gazing upward,
They see the dreadful sky.

The hawks fly overhead,
And guide us from up high.

Smoke will rise to the blackened skies,
Way up high the hawks still fly.
By the night, and fires light,
We will die, the hawks still fly.