I toll for kings and common men, I sing at six, then noon again. I wake the world, I mourn the dead, a voice of metal, overhead.

I fall in the middle of Tyr and Thor, Odin, or Woden, I am named for. Or maybe you know me as the oldest child, In an eccentric family known for loving things grim, grotesque and despised.

Let them eat cake, a quote I've never said Yet the people responded, off with her head! In fairness to the people.. they weren't well fed Would things have been different had I given them bread?

By mountain’s root in pools I dwell, A name forgotten, lost to spell. Two voices weave my tattered will.. One whisper soft, one sharp and shrill.

I can send objects flying, but I cannot attach myself to them. People use me to fight battles.