haal chaal thik thak hai, sab kuchh thik thak hai
b.a kiya hai, m.a kiya lagata hai vo bhi ayvay kiya
kaam nahi hai varna yaha aap ki dua se sab thik thak hai
haal chaal thik thak hai, sab kuchh thik thak hai

ab-o-hava
ab-o-hava desh ki bahut saaph hai
kayada hai, kanun hai, inasaaph hai
allah miyan jaane koi jiye ya mare
adami ko khun vun sab maaf hai
ab-o-hava desh ki bahut saaph hai
kayada hai, kanun hai, inasaaph hai
allah miyan jaane koi jiye ya mare
adami ko khun vun sab maaf hai
aur kyaa kahu, chhoti moti chori
rishvat khori deti hai apna guzara yaha
aap ki dua se baki thik thak hai
haal chaal thik thak hai, sab kuchh thik thak hai

gol mol roti ka pahiya chala
gol mol roti ka pahiya chala
pichhe pichhe chandi ka rupaiya chala
roti ko bechari ko chil le gayi
chandi le ke munh kala kauva chala
gol mol roti ka pahiya chala
pichhe pichhe chandi ka rupaiya chala
roti ko bechari ko chil le gayi, oh teri
chandi le ke munh kala kauva chala
aur kya kahu, maut ka tamasha
chala hai betahasha, jine ki phursat nahi hai yaha
aap ki dua se baki thik thak hai (very good)
haal chaal thik thak hai, sab kuchh thik thak hai
b.a kiya hai, m.a kiya lagata hai vo bhi ayvay kiya
kaam nahi hai varna yaha aap ki dua se sab thik thak hai

The pulse beats, it is fine, all is well, they say.
B.A. done, M.A. too, feels like a wasted day.
No work exists, but blessed by you, things stay,
The pulse beats, it is fine, all is well, they say.

The breath of this land, so pure, a lie, a jest.
Law and order, the scales of justice, put to test.
God alone knows who lives, who is laid to rest.
Man's sins, his blood, are all so easily blessed.
The breath of this land, so pure, a lie, a jest.
Law and order, the scales of justice, put to test.
God alone knows who lives, who is laid to rest.
Man's sins, his blood, are all so easily blessed.
What more can I say? Petty theft, a daily crime,
Bribery, the bread that feeds, the passing of time.
By your grace, it’s all fine, in its own paradigm.
The pulse beats, it is fine, all is well, they chime.

The round bread rolls, the wheel it does turn,
Behind it, the silver coin, it does burn.
The bread, it’s snatched away, a life undone,
The crow, with silver, its black face will learn.
The round bread rolls, the wheel it does turn,
Behind it, the silver coin, it does burn.
The bread, it’s snatched away, a life undone,
The crow, with silver, its black face will learn.
What more can I say? The dance of death, a ghastly show,
It rages on, no time to live, to let the spirit grow.
By your grace, it’s all fine, yes indeed, let's bestow.
The pulse beats, it is fine, all is well, you know.
B.A. done, M.A. too, feels like a wasted flow,
No work exists, but blessed by you, things now,
The pulse beats, it is fine, all is well, they bestow.