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M123 Sashi


Sashi the bengali holy man
___________________________

I relish fish, all this just one dish,
My world holy and very fishy.
Into peddling drugs like thugs,
Same to same, my name, Sashi.

Sanskrit for the sun, ain't yet no gun, 
I gently grab testicles and squeeze. 
Or using a feather, I torment a nose, 
I eat the snot in that sneeze. 

"Sashi," thinks I, "what ought I do," 
Desirous to get kids hooked.
"Eureka" says I to myself, I cry,
Spike with fentanyl the ganja I cooked. 

That way, I improve my chances,
The fucks become forever paying friends. 
I laugh at the thought in my happy cot,
Can't sleep, so this is how life ends. 

To this goodly god I pray, suck my hooray, 
He's into drugs and alcoholic drinks. 
Together we plan the end of the world, 
His shit, by holy, really fucking stinks. 

A hindoo bengali super holy,
Parsimonious, but I like food.
I galumph to the market many times,
Blessed by god, my shit goodly good.

Yes, I mix shit up all the time, 
PhD in religious theology was hard. 
Alas, unrighteous pagan I was before, 
Sacrosanct now my sanctified turds. 

Not bashful at all about my holes, 
Hark methinks I goodly divine. 
Invented turds that resemble gods, 
A dozen nobel prizes mine. 

Even my diarrhea is venerated, 
The shit pan a hallowed can. 
I ship them once brimming full, 
Ecommerce next, how beatific my plan. 

Celestial that ass says hello with, 
An ordinary and necessary fart. 
My shit readily sinks, otherwise it really stinks, 
Grand life's this goodly part. 

I traffic drugs to the bangladesh border,
And export temple quality holy beef.
Reveling in a life of honest-to-god luxury,
I clean my anus with premium bay leaf.

Or I wipe it on my cat, a tad fat,
Has made reaching my asshole hard.
So I don't wipe, was anyway a hype, 
I shit lonely, like an itinerant bard. 

The dingle berries sell very well, 
Prithee I want you to buy it. 
The lice in my pubes or pinworms, 
Free per kilo with my gourmet shit. 

My dick atrophied into just balls,
A protection from the petulant other.
But nothing wrong with my finances,
I can still become a three-balled father.

The bengali girls podgy always,
Fuck, why are they so obese? 
Can't find the honeypot under fat,
So I fuck the neighborhood geese.

Romantic like shit, "hello this is it,"
I say to woo my thought bride.
Imagining how I'd introduce myself,
As my shit floats up in a sewer tide. 


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