Their everyday, a last crusade
Their faith, a myth, of martyrdom
Behold a race, born renegade
Life’s a, cherished death, in whose harem!
Their rosary, is a, vain jihad
Whose psalm, a sinister, battle cry
Behind a, fidel faith’s, façade
Are Satan’s sons, who dare, to die!
Their banes and boons, are lasting stain
On mankind, that reveres, faith of fear
For we don’t, feel God, without His pain
He bestows us, with a, bliss austere!
A one and half, millennium’s, pilgrimage
Left rivers, of gore, in faith’s trade-in
Though an, ethos scarred, by a rage’s outrage
Will never win, The Saints Of Sin!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra