Joan of Arc

There's lots of things in a human head
That I hope I never have to touch
She likes the taste of burning flesh
Cannibals eat their love, I'm a sucker for romantic stuff

She peeled the skin right off her face
And left it lying on the bathroom floor
I put it into my suitcase, I couldn't leave it like that
Just in case she want it back

Joan, Joan of Arc keeps burning up
Joan, Joan of Arc keeps burning up

It's hard to go out with a saint
Who's French and comes from France
I start to scream, I almost faint
She's got the stigmata, I want the stigmata

I give her a Marlboro cigarette
She starts to smoke and smoke, and smoke
Sometimes even saints forget
I don't want to sound like a fascist
But it's wrong to play with matches

Joan, Joan of Arc keeps burning up
Joan, Joan of Arc keeps burning up

Joan of Arc, Joan of Arc, Joan of Arc
You hot little Catholic bitch, ooh
You're a martyr from France
I'm just a regular guy from New Jersey
But we have burning fire and heat, ooh
You've got the stigmata, I want the stigmata

Joan, Joan of Arc keeps burning up
Joan, Joan of Arc keeps burning up