When Good Will comes,
Those strong shall fall,
Her empty soul,
Makes kings feel small,
Not even hell,
Would take her down,
And now she dwells,
Above the ground,
Her wrist holds the key,
And hope flee's from her,
She kills with glee,
Arms move with a blur,
Her cold dead eyes,
and her soft black hair,
She'll take you by surprise,
Do you dare walk into her lair?
She performs the will,
Of the royal and Divine,
Travelling to kill,
Those who stepped out of line.
Her final defeat,
her maker ashamed,
The hunter is beat,
And royalty is maimed.
They'll sing of her sins,
And her kills in battle,
Across every Inn,
During most of the prattle.
When Good Will comes,
Those strong shall fall,
Her empty soul,
Makes kings feel small,
Not even hell,
Would take her down,
And now she dwells,
Above the ground.
Good Wills tortured ballad.
