On The Chin

Hard, as a rock,
Soft, like marshmallow.
Punches her way through wet paper bags,
Clouds of smoke,
Like being hit in the grid with a feather pillow.
It's not about dishing out the violence,
It's about how you take the blows.
On the chin.
One for the team.
Scraped knees and elbows,
Staggering on the gravel with a broken nose.
I'm not hard,
I just don't know when to stay down.
Like a chav from the olden days.
Easily offended after 4 pints in town.
And my Dad told me so,
'The bigger they are, the harder they fall',
You better put me on my arse pet,
Cause I will come back for more!
See, I don't tire quickly and on that you can sure,
I'll let you pick the battles,
But I'll win the fucking War.