Swords at throats and arrows fly
But the real fight isn't on the field tonight
Soldiers dye the ground carmine
And you'll lay a palm leaf to cover up the sight
Come and kneel to me
Oil caged, ordained
Here to bring your reckoning
Prophecy is born
But soon you'll doubt
And draw your swords
To those your fealty's sworn
Joan, she's sick, a saint, maybe a witch
Too late to choose, now that your tempers lit
The devil spy she's infiltrated or
A prophet from god here to be our saviour
Seize a white dove by her feet
Paint her wings in black
As you set a ravens stage
Don't you see her pointed teeth
As her jaw retracts
She must be a demons maid
Are you scared of me?
I must lie with Satan
For you to find me threatening
Say it's all my fault
And you'll go burn a girl or two
So you don't have to fall
Joan, she's sick, a saint, maybe a witch
Too late to choose, now that your tempers lit
A helpless girl manipulated or
A prophet from god here to be our saviour
Maybe she was evil
Maybe she was good
Maybe you saw a sick young girl
And ego overtook
Maybe she was a demon
Maybe she was divine
Maybe you don't send babes to war
To be your holy guide
Maybe she was a soldier
Maybe she was a blight
Maybe she didn't deserve to die
For trying to survive
Maybe you were greedy
Maybe you were cruel
Maybe what we are or aren't
Doesn't matter much at all
Joan, she's sick, a saint, maybe a witch
Truly who knows
But you'll still go write your script
No say in how her own stories told
So you'll pick and choose
What bits fit into your mould
Joan, she's sick, a saint, maybe a witch
Truly who knows
But you'll still go write your script
No say in how her own stories told
So you'll pick and choose
What bits fit into your mould
Joan you were dead
The day you came to this world
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