Jeanne d’Arc

Verse 1 Born from fields where fireflies forget the night, A bloom of courage carved in stubborn light. Clad in rusted dreams and a peasant’s prayer, She heard a call beyond the clamor and the glare. Winds whip the banners, steel speaks in her eyes, A flame unquenchable beneath the French skies. Pre-Chorus The soil remembers every step she braved, A saint of battle, forged in thunder’s wave. Chorus Jeanne d’Arc, fierce heart on fire, Rising like a storm of iron-wired desire. Voice like a bullet, truth in her choir, Calling the realm to reclaim what’s higher. Jeanne d’Arc, the peasant’s spark, Turned blade to beacon in the dark. Across the ages, hear the bells embark: She is mercy, she is mark, she is mark. Verse 2 They named her guardian of a crownless throne, Yet fate commanded she’d not walk alone. A sister of the drum and banner’s roar, She rode through ash and shook the war-torn floor. prophets murmur doubt, but courage won’t bend, She wore the year like armor till the end. Pre-Chorus With fire in lungs and steel in stubborn veins, She spoke in sparks, a chorus of refrains. Chorus Jeanne d’Arc, fierce heart on fire, Rising like a storm of iron-wired desire. Voice like a bolt, truth in her choir, Calling the realm to reclaim what’s higher. Jeanne d’Arc, the peasant’s spark, Turned blade to beacon in the dark. Across the ages, hear the bells embark: She is mercy, she is mark, she is mark. Bridge Oaths carved in oak, prophecy in rain, The crown of France kissed by the flame. Trial by fire, a girl with iron will, The world learns to listen, the world learns to feel. If mercy is a weapon, let it be loud, A sovereign roar beneath the thundercloud. Verse 3 From village roads to the siege’s choking mist, She stood as proof the smallest heart can resist. Burning banners, iron chorus overhead, Her name a name the blackened night would dread. If heaven calls on a storming, crimson dawn, Then listen close—the legend marches on. Chorus Jeanne d’Arc, fierce heart on fire, Rising like a storm of iron-wired desire. Voice like a bolt, truth in her choir, Calling the realm to reclaim what’s higher. Jeanne d’Arc, the peasant’s spark, Turned blade to beacon in the dark. Across the ages, hear the bells embark: She is mercy, she is mark, she is mark. Outro So let the bells of history ring and clang, A chorus for the brave who never sang in vain. Jeanne d’Arc, a vow in steel and flame, A legend forged by faith, and named by name.