It takes a certain kind
To cherish bruises in the mornings
It takes a certain kind
To want to compare old scars
A special sort of madness
Must pervade our being
To strike each other down
And jump up, smiling, "Again!"
It is not the God of War
Who overlooks our training
But rather the Spirits of Love and Joy
For to contend with each other purely
We must ourselves be compassionate
Loving, joyful, and fair
We do not practice the arts of death
To defend oneself and others is an art of life
And as we strike with the right mind
We offer up a prayer
As we grapple to overcome adversity
We meditate on peace
It takes a certain kind
To be a martial artist
To cherish bruises in the mornings
It takes a certain kind
To want to compare old scars
A special sort of madness
Must pervade our being
To strike each other down
And jump up, smiling, "Again!"
It is not the God of War
Who overlooks our training
But rather the Spirits of Love and Joy
For to contend with each other purely
We must ourselves be compassionate
Loving, joyful, and fair
We do not practice the arts of death
To defend oneself and others is an art of life
And as we strike with the right mind
We offer up a prayer
As we grapple to overcome adversity
We meditate on peace
It takes a certain kind
To be a martial artist
