On a certain temple built on a pyre
And what do you do in a barren land? Of Greys and browns and saffron sand? You call this the country of the forgotten God, The lord of the majority, the holder of the sword. Justice delivered with a single swift blow; Blood and mangled flesh, your devotion does show. Limited imagination and a tiny, petty mind; In brutal savagery, divinity they find. The righteous are rarely creatures in the right, Truth is decided by unholy might. A temple does now replace a tent, Now that blood and bones have paid the rent. A rose by any other name… Is not how you play the piety game… Hey Ram! Hai Allah! Jesus Christ! May the sacrifices at your altar be more reasonably priced.