Jeanne d�Arc, Jeanne d�Arc
Your mother are many
Everything bleeds
Nor have they heard the netherworld move its lips
You haven�t heard a word, you haven�t heard a word
It�s the emptiness
Everything is from within
Afraid to die you are
Don�t receive the sword, don�t receive the sword
Everything bleeds� the branches bleed
Between your cold mouths
They will throw ashes over the Seine
Ashes over the Seine
Like a funeral veil
Ashes over the seine
Jeanne d�Arc, Jeanne d�Arc
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