The word was on the tip of my tongue

And she was there also beyond
The pail
Looking for her chain mail
Armour to wear
Joan of Arc who had
Talked with God
And knew just exactly where
She belonged
And I fell like a beast in the field
Under her sword of the lord

I fell like a sacrificial calf
upon
The altar of circumstance
And so it was done
Like it should have been first
The cut was made
The scar will be worse
But the pain I remember
As if I'd rehearsed
This scene a thousand times
Already

And she saw signs,
I swear she did
In the pines,
On the paths
On the lines of her palms
In the tones of my laugh

Like a detective of the macabre-
Sonata a full evangelical
Angel fire-starter