The large army of sadhus and saints, Oh! Don’t mistake them for dovish men. If it came between a man or a calf, They’ll shoot the man and spit on his corpse.
That valiant army fought many battles, Armed with axes, sticks, hammers and sickles. They once tore down a giant monster, That looked more like a temple of a competing order.
Having reclaimed their lord’s birthplace, Bringing pride and honor upon their race. Vultures hovering above at a height, Waiting to stoop below for a fight.
Front changes, battle rages on, Heat of the sun, to cool of the bar. Fire within kept burning, Fueled by love and hate churning.
I now seek permission to blasphemise, For I question the lord they canonize. Isn’t it dastardly For a slayer of demons To seek help of mere mortals?