A dor é passageira, a vitória é eterna.


The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want
He makes me down to lie
Through pastures green, he leadeth me the silent waters by
With bright knives, He releaseth my soul
He maketh me to hang on hooks in high places
He converteth me to lamb cutlets
For lo, he hath great power, and great hunger
When cometh the day we lowly ones
Through quiet reflection and great dedication
Master the art of karate
Lo, we shall rise up
And then we'll make the bugger's eyes water