
Bullshit Guru Bingo
Verse 1 [Aggressive kazoo, airhorn blasts] Deepak’s got a flowchart to fuck with your head, Sells “quantum healing” to rich guys in bed. “Your trauma’s a black hole! Your soul’s TikTok fame!” Translation: You’re dumb, and he’s rich—thanks, same game! Pre-Chorus “Venmo me cash for this ancient Sanskrit quote!” (It’s from Wikipedia, but shh—don’t gloat). “Your aura’s a startup! Your karma’s on strike!” Just shut up and buy his $500 mic! Chorus Bullshit guru BINGO! Fill up your card! “Consciousness!” “Vortex!” “Vibrate the stars!” He’ll drop “entanglement” just to sound smart, But his science is looser than a vegan’s fart! Oh, Deepak—you word-salad clown, The only thing you “manifest” is cash raining down! Verse 2 [Sitar sampled through a woodchipper] He’ll gaslight your grief with a smirk and a shrug, “Your dead dog’s reborn as a cosmic love bug!” Then charge you three grand for a Zoom call at dawn, To ask, “Have you tried not being sad?” Move on. Bridge [Record scratch, dial-up modem sounds] Goop-approved grift in a linen blazer, “The universe winks!” (But his bank account’s chaser). The secret to life? It’s tragically simple: Sell hope to the lost, but keep the receipts crumpled. Chorus Bullshit guru BINGO! Fill up your card! “Chakras!” “Synchronicity!” “Ego’s on guard!” He’ll cite Schrödinger then misquote the Vedas, His logic’s a smoothie of moldy encyclopedias! Oh, Deepak—you cryptic buffet, The only “infinite” here’s the debt that you’ll pay! Outro [Distorted echo, cash register cha-ching] So next time he’s preaching “soul alignment,” just laugh— The man’s a thesaurus fucked by a paragraph. “Namasté,” my ass—here’s the truth, free of charge: You want real wisdom? Stop falling for large… …Bank accounts wrapped in a spiritual farce.

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