We anonymous Fucktards & Salman Taseer

When religious birds threw their stones ripping the flesh, baring the bones
You stood tall, you bore our cross and the crowd waved and laughed

What celebration, what joyous glee; another blasphemy; another blood spree
and round and round the fervor goes; heaven's winds, seventy two hoors

And we stand aside, the silent and tamed ; impotent bastards spineless and shamed
We bicker and moan and raise a ruckus; as long as no-one names our names

(whatever happened to principle, us fucks)


And hence Salam Taseer died; Twenty seven bullets lodged in his body. Yeah, I see the irony of reversing the number to seventy two, the same number of virgins that asshole dreamt of before pulling the trigger.
And what do we secular intellectuals do? We fucking moan anonymously.



Yes, the sky is not red today, nor the black engulfs the air
A little blood on an Islamabad street, its not Armageddon, they say

These people with their buckets of God
These people, the idiots, we've stayed away …

We still rather sit on this cozy sofa, with our fancy books
Animated rage, vanilla cappuccino, blogs we type away

Deep in shit, in this joke of our yoke
Lets light a candle for this black day

For what else can cowards like us do?