Withered and broken man.nSo fragile, so frail, so undignified by standards.nBut they will never break him.nHe has found his place.nThis harmless hero that they patronizenis but a saint.nCan't you feel his pain and lost loveninside this decorated soldier?nInfinite patience.nThe sticks and stones they throw,nthey scar his flesh, shatter bone.nBut they will never break him.nHe has found his place.nThis harmless hero that they patronizenis but a saint.nCan't you feel his pain, lost love,ninside this decorated soldier?nHis only friend, the night.nThe calm, the quiet cold.nBut you'll never seem him cry.nBut they will never know, never know,nknow his name.nThese sad old songs he sings are solid gold.nThey resonate.nThe hate we've shown him,nhe'll carry to his resting place.nThe hate we've shown him,nhe'll carry to a lonely grave.nSo leave him in the darkness. NO.nLeave him hopeless, social creation.nLeave him with sickness.nBut let it be said, that's how he looks at you.nCan't you feel his pain and lost love,ninside this decorated soldier?nHis only friend, the night.nThe calm and quiet cold.nBut you'll never see him cry.nAnd on that day he reached out.nHe grabbed, pulled me close.nHe whispered to me in a voice barely audible.nHe said, This life is what you make it.ndon't let it pass you by.nIf you don't care whether you live or dienyou're the most alive you'll ever be.