Super holy I, sort of cross eye,
I run all kinds of scams.
Bengali when bare, people stare,
Tit fairy with two hairy yams.
Triple stacked chin, overall thin,
Sort of big boned I am I think.
Ticks and lice, on hair very nice,
Pubes with fungus that stink.
Pious heavy-weight dedicated and set,
In the day I sit under a banyan tree.
At night in my liquor and meat shop,
I'm a drunk butcher on a killing spree.
A freak with a trick chair made of teak,
I tell I'm the only great mind, silly.
I smile to people who file and insert,
A god based anal rod surreptitiously.
Lubed with blame this my game,
Many gods I get to choose.
Holy as hell sadhu baba they yell,
When later they hang on a noose.
I send testicles into crotch, enjoy scotch,
My accounts in Swiss banks swell.
Demand donations I rob gullible nations,
Use oxytocin in my prayer spell.
Murder is fine when you're divine,
And colluding with your incumbent tools.
This country is rich I get to bitch,
The easy hapless hopeless fools.
