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 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's seen heaven's face
