i had a vision of heaven where joan of arc sings the blues
she is lit up in the spotlight of saints
the current of her blood is electric, i can feel it
and she howls as if she were drunk on moonlight
the stage unfolds from where she stands
and joins into the song the very angels
as all in those eternal realms, far and wide, begin to accompany
and heaven’s grand light dims so the spot shows
there is not a dry eye in the house, of sorrow and redemption
as the cherubim lift her high, the only voice
the tune to ripple through the crowds, toward infinity
the stories do not speak of such soul
after midnight among the stars above the stars
out of dreaming's grasp, to the light beyond the light
