[Intro – Spoken] Zen monk with a mission, But not the one you think. Not peace, not calm, But blood on the brink. ⸻ [Verse 1] Yo, it started in Manchuria, spy life raw, Inoue Nisshō, takin’ notes for the war. Came back home with his spirit in pieces, Found Zen in the silence — but not for peace treaties. Rinzai robes on, but the fire burned deep, Chanting sutras in the day, but at night he’d scheme. Post-enlightenment rage, turnin’ zazen to zeal, Preachin’ sermons with a knife — this dharma was real. He gathered the youth, said, “We cut to purify,” “Strike the corrupt, let the lotus bloom in the sky.” Three down in ’32 — elite on the floor, As if satori meant settling imperial scores. ⸻ [Chorus] 🧨 Not your master’s Zen — this was blade and blood, Monk in a haori stirrin’ up a flood. Enlightenment twisted in a steel-tipped prayer, Bowin’ to Buddha while the bullets fill air. Zen terror — no peace in that breath, Just stillness before he delivered death. Meditate on that, ‘cause the kōan’s insane: Can the sword be holy when it cuts in Buddha’s name? ⸻ [Verse 2] Locked down, life term for the plot and the pain, But in ‘40 they freed him — wartime insane. Next thing you know, he’s chillin’ with Konoe, Prime Minister’s monk — the killer gets full entrée. Nation spirals right while the robes hold tight, “Selflessness” weaponized for state-sanctioned might. New band of goons, the National Corps, Still preachin’ sun-gods and the emperor’s war. Victoria breaks it down, tears off the mask, Shows how Zen got hijacked for the nation’s task. Was it real awakening or nationalist spin? Hard to tell when your kōan ends in sin. ⸻ [Chorus] 🧨 Not your master’s Zen — this was blade and blood, Monk in a haori stirrin’ up a flood. Enlightenment twisted in a steel-tipped prayer, Bowin’ to Buddha while the bullets fill air. Zen terror — no peace in that breath, Just stillness before he delivered death. Meditate on that, ‘cause the kōan’s insane: Can the sword be holy when it cuts in Buddha’s name? ⸻ [Bridge – Haunting Whisper] Zazen still. Mind like the moon. Hand on the hilt. Truth comes too soon. ⸻ [Verse 3] Yo, this ain’t to shame Zen, but to unmask the myth, When silence becomes complicit with political grift. When monks swap mala beads for military aims, And “non-attachment” fuels totalitarian flames. Victoria ain’t just droppin’ history facts, He’s askin’ — when religion arms up, who reacts? Islam, Christianity, now Buddhism too? If the robes go rogue, what’s the sangha gonna do? ⸻ [Final Chorus] 🧨 Not your master’s Zen — this was blade and blood, Monk in a haori stirrin’ up a flood. Enlightenment twisted in a steel-tipped prayer, Bowin’ to Buddha while the bullets fill air. Zen terror — no peace in that breath, Just stillness before he delivered death. Meditate on that, ‘cause the kōan’s insane: Can the sword be holy when it cuts in Buddha’s name? ⸻ [Outro – Spoken] Breathe in. Breathe out. Now imagine the silence… …just before the shot.
