Wounded are the weak and mighty
Yet few of us laid low.
Our arms may shine with sweat
And our spirits brightly glow.
We shall toil and rage and cry and sing
Like others, bear blood upon heroic masks.
Despite the bruises from our struggles
We persevere in loving tasks.
You will carry on your work, love
And I'll toil by your right arm
And I'll dry your tears of anguish
And I'll shelter you from harm.
Wounded are the weak and mighty
And those who don't yet know their might
And some feel half-defeated
But you and I persist to fight.
When you're tired, I'll lift you up.
I'll heal your wounds and soul.
You're mightier for each recovery.
You will again feel whole.
Your sadness, it injures me,
But it won't tear me apart.
I'm tougher now than ever, love,
For wounded is my heart.
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