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She walked the halls of thunder
praised the beasts within
Screaming to the gods of hell
while bathing in her sin

Drowning in the blood of young
raised the sword of might
Again her blade pierced through all
those within her sight

Then a warrior stood before her
crossing the path to see
The hollow painting of victory
all that she would be

They fought like raging seasons
stood their ground indeed
But then he ascertained a weakness
and expected her to plead

Though she now had been defeated
by this simple scheme of wit
Despite her nature as a murderer
he still wanted every bit

The queen warned him sincerely
told the tale of red
Still he fell for the same weakness
that to victory had led

Her hands coloured by warrior blood
the goddess had been wrong
There will be no mercy, nor salvation in hell
of which murderers belong






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