she is sanctuary

The Living End

My Joan of Arc, my merciful martyr,
How can I ever count all the different deaths
You have saved me from?

The melancholy,
The sadness,
The bitter resign
All buried alive by the avenging angel of your heart
All laid to rest by the never-surrender of your soul,
All burned beyond recognition by the bonfire of your spirit.

Resurrected, I survive, an apostate,
Reborn as an apostle of you,
My new religion, the living end.