The ballad of Nagarjuna
Posted by heretic on July 18, 2008
Pitch black the worm above his lips
For he was born out of Satan’s hips
His horse he will tie anywhere he may
Powerless are you, is it not clear as day?
Cross his path and your life will pass sooner
And he shall not care because he’s Nagarjuna
A thousand concupines he has around all the time
They listen to his drivel to fill their empty minds
Slave to his destiny, he couldn’t be a healer
Now he runs his outfit, a claptrap dealer
Cross his path and your life will pass sooner
And he shall not care because he’s Nagarjuna
If you shall come across his godly countenance
Fall to your knees and break out the penance
He will taint your soul, he will own your breath
Or better just yet, maybe he’ll bore you to death
Cross his path and your life will pass sooner
And he shall not care because he’s Nagarjuna
