The battle in the mind,not with men.

The battle in the mind,not with men.

When things get hot,I don't worry. . . 

When the bullets start to flying in my direction,

I send them back for there owners reception!

Bullets don't like the touch of my skin,it makes them bent with worry. . . 

Explosives don't go off around me. . . 

I make them wish they had feet-to scurry

Knives refuse to cut my flesh,my blood's made of acid and makes there blades singe!

Fists and kicks hit good licks,but one crooked stick hits better than them!

The battle's in the mind,not with the man;nor any of his invention-so don't cringe