At seventeen, she became the queen of Orleans A peasant child guided by a vivid dream She was cool before they knew what cool became She cut her hair and cross-dressed in a dangerous age She set a trend, a natural look was all the rage Imagine if they'd had merchandise and poster sales This bride of God, bigger than Elvis in her day She had it all until they burned it all away
She swung a sword She rode a horse She wore her armor for the Lord But did she cry by candlelight Was she lonely after dark Did she pray for something more Did anybody sleep with Joan Of Arc
She was small and more or less of common breed But saint aside, no stranger to a woman's needs No handsome knights, no random acts of chivalry Her bed remained a simple place for her to sleep
They burned her down for her belief They burned her down for her faith They gave her up into the flames Proclaiming she'd seen heaven's face