Your hands don’t hold the answer
Joan of arc said hold it higher, hold it higher
Higher so I can see the cross above the flames
Praise and blame, darling, are all the same
It’s not tears, it’s smoke in my eyes
I seek the heavens, I search the skies
Born of tempests, a warrior at the mouth of dawn
I am a child of beauty in a storm
Standing in the fire looking out to sea
Waiting for the waves to bring the water back to me
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