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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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