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Joan of Arc

Iím not comforted by the concept of your faithfulness
Iím not settled by the thought of your reward.
Iím not better with the promise of a paradise
And I donít believe itís gonna be alright.

Weíre all running from our champions to escape our satisfaction
We donít want to understand the universe and what it holds
Sometimes we need a role to play, sometimes we want to fade away

So I raise my fists to the demon beast of my identity
And bef for a reality that doesnít end this way. 
Sweet Joan of Arc, if I pretend to understand
Will you flatter me with dignity and lead me on to grace?

Iím not afraid to accept that Iím a villain
Iím just afraid that Iíll have nothing to accept.
If I spend eternity as someoneís cruel antagonist
Will I still have you to reach for when eternity ends?

None of us are eclectic, none of us are apolitical
None of us fight for justice quite as hard as for our greed
Or perhaps you are all good, perhaps I have misunderstood
	perhaps I am the only bad guy here

I say my prayers to the patron saint of selfishness
And ask God for forgiveness for all the things I want
Sweet Joan of Arc, if I tithe and read your tale tonight
Will you stand there with your sword when Iím alone and in the dark?

Iím far away now from the things that I hold sacred
From my ties and my obsessions, from the fetishes I donít appreciate
Donít lie to me, I know that Iím not wanted
Letís not pretend Iím here for my benefit

I dry my tears and curse God for all my faithlessness
While trying to convince myself that I have yet to sin
Sweet Joan of Arc, if I stab my demons in the back
Will I have your understanding when my virtues grow thin?

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