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 wants it back.

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 of Arc keeps burning up.

Joan of Arc,

you hot little Catholic bitch oooh.

You're a martyr from France,

I'm just an average guy from New Jersey.

But we have fire, burning, heat oooh.

You've got the stigmata,

I want the stigmata.

Joan of Arc keeps burning up.