Chilling wind…

Silent abyss…

The monk returns… crushing shit with his fist.

Bare feet on stone, robes torn and stained,

Training in the sewer, where the turds remain.

Meditation deep, mind sharp like a blade,

But my fists of fury make toilets afraid.

Chilling wind, silent abyss,

Crushing turds with an iron fist.

No plunger, no shame, no miss,

The monk of shit leaves nothing but bliss.

Incense burning, but the smell ain’t pure,

Sacred scrolls smeared with bathroom lore.

Enemies fear the stink I bring,

With a single flush, I’m the monk-king.

Balance found where the sewer flows.

Strength is tested where the turd monk goes.

Chilling wind, silent abyss,

Crushing turds with an iron fist.

From mountain peak to sewer mist,

Bow to the monk—don’t resist!