On Tooting Broadway station I knelt down and wept My hands hit the concrete floor Until my fingers bled I will cut him out of my heart I will leave these tears in pools Tripped over these pourings, tripped over his feelings I've cut him out of my heart Burn, burn is clothes Burn everything he owns And the empty chamber left I'll carry around as this hollowness That drags in my voice Burn, burn it all Burn, burn it all Benedictory fire, blessing out the burns On Tooting Broadway station I lay down and slept The concrete for a pillow Fingers in bandages I cut him out I lie here dry I unstiched the bindwork of love Burn, burn his clothes... Burn, burn it all... My John of Arc... Burn, burn it all... Give me the charred heart Give me his fillings And God, give me God to forgive me Burn, burn it all... My John of Arc, fire fire My John of Arc Fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire