A bird watcher, tad wide, I confide,
But this city has built benches cheap.
"Make in India" fucks duck ass,
Now I look like a creep.
The state and country run by goons,
Centralized dick and decentralized cunt.
My throat runs quickly dry when I try, to get up,
But traditionally I mustn't and I shan't.
In this status anxiety bengalis go potty,
With onus to blame invisible beings.
Thus I'm unable as you can tell,
I pray to the foreskin of jesus in saturn's rings.
Fake degrees galore mostly ordinary whores,
Now at the helm of this or that.
I gain weight trying to keep my shit straight,
You can't really call me fat.
I sit, I sit, then I shit,
It oozes out of me like toothpaste.
330 million hindoo gods to clean up,
In my nature there's no haste.
Podgy hotch potch my shit like butter scotch,
Creamy and with bubbles of bengali stink.
My rice always fried, ghee from cow tits,,
The cow is holy, it's piss I also drink.
The chicks hate my body odor,
Somehow they can smell my asshole.
How nasty their thinking,
When I am a pure unadulterated soul.
The gods piss me off too,
They get all the good food.
Food is all I care about,
Already famished, eat, yes I could.
