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Jeanne d�Arc, Jeanne d�Arc Your mother are many Everything bleeds Nor have they heard the netherworld move its lips You haven�t heard a word, you haven�t heard a word It�s the emptiness Everything is from within Afraid to die you are Don�t receive the sword, don�t receive the sword Everything bleeds� the branches bleed Between your cold mouths They will throw ashes over the Seine Ashes over the Seine Like a funeral veil Ashes over the seine Jeanne d�Arc, Jeanne d�Arc