Born from Hell
Raised in a church
Read the books
Heard the speeches
I never disturbed
Smells of wine
And taste of bread
Pundits pointing to my shame
And praying for relief
They tried to heal my soul
I’m perfect in imperfections
Innocent but dressed in black
White but frozen in the aisle
Open-and-shut case
Now I’m shining in the dark
Come and see your Joan of Arc
Was not burnt alive
They tried to heal my soul
I’m perfect in imperfections
