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