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b dolan - joan of arcadia lyrics

joan of arc had a d-ld- named jesus
made of wood from the cross of its namesake
she considered the splinters atonement
and when she came it would fill her with light!

her body was an ocean full of wreckage
her flesh was a map of h-ll
that spilled out the sides of her dresses
the flabby arms of modern surrender
a smothering mother’s body
body like a black hole
pulling calories and emotion and her many children to her
she was childless
she was alone
she found comfort in the bible
a gravity like her own
promising always to pull her down before she floated into sp-ce
(and sp-ce was the place she feared most)
staring out her window,
distant planets were cold
until a voice came to her in the night
she was sitting in her kitchen it was flooded with light
and she wandered out into her backyard
wearing nothing but her house dress
and there,
behind the racist lawn status and the picket fence
she saw her hedges in flames!

“speak to me lord” she said
and the world would never be the same
“speak to me lord” she said

i killed a queer for christ and didn’t even get a thank you letter
i let jesus take the wheel and woke up in this hospital
and though i know
he only did that sh-t to test my faith i’m saying
nothing
i’m praying
about it
i’m asking god to keep the lights on and shrink my tumors
and keep em from privatizing my job and to reach those in power!
those who forsake this nation by not crushing the wicked &
them who will not burn the world out of their body.
those who refuse to kneel,
them who choose the wheel
those demons walking the earth
building evil empires
threatening from outside
i know that satan,
the stranger,
the foreign,
the invader
is the creator of mexican immigrants and al-qaeda
and lord i’ll understand if you want the earth to be flooded again
in fact my faith could
melt an iceberg
if you ever need a hand
just deliver me and mine to the promised,
land (x2)

joan of arc had a d-ld- named “jesus”,
made of wood from the cross of it’s namesake
and her -rg-sms were all omens
when she came it would fill her with right!

and when the light had finally left her
she lay ruined across her sheets
her mouth unhinged,
her shape like a victim
murdered, in a sleep without dreams

joan of arc was a warrior poet.
and she baptized the world in flame.
and she never stopped to wonder, for even a moment
why “jesus”
never came.

- b dolan lyrics

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