Young and carefree but with a heart suited with armos
Standing firm in his own battleground
Fighting through all the pains and sorrows
He is a soldier
He is a warrior
He is the Kurpse Grinder

Not a thousand needles could break his spirit
Even a dreadful disease he is willing to defeat
Tracing shadows from his wrists
White knuckles from clenching fists

Staring at these faded veins
Fading in a rising plain
I will be better, I will be back
And in this lifetime I will rock

He is smiling but tears are falling
The night is young but the pain is creeping
Tired, beaten, weart face
Battling with such good grace

A quivered lip, a rendered sigh
Last hint of mom’s lullaby
Every ounce of power you have drained
And now it’s time to rest my friend