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Angel of Death spreads his wings on the blast
Breathed on the face of the foes as he passed
Eyes of the seekers watch deadly and chilled
Hearts that once beat and forever grew still
Joan of Ark, warrior queen
La Pucelle
Witch
There lay the steed with his nostrils all wide
Through it there goes not the breath of his pride
Foam of his gasping lay white on the turf
Cold as the spray of the rock beating surf
Joan of Ark, warrior queen
La Pucelle
The divine victim of your voices
Martyr through her own choices
La Pucelle
Witch
There lay the rider distorted and pale
Dew on his brow and the rust on his helm
The tents were all silent, the banners unflown
Lances unlifted and the trumpets unblown
Joan of Ark la Pucelle
Joan of Ark, warrior queen
Joan of Ark la Pucelle
Witch
Fuente: LRCLIB
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Visto por primera vez: Jul 8Última reproducción: Jul 8, 08:17 PMDuración de la pista: 5:03