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?
