kya soch raha matwale dunia ke khel nirale
kahi motar gadi wale kahi roti ke hai lale
kahi chor chor kahi shor shor
sab kisne chakkar dale kya soch raha matwale
dunia ke khel nirale kahi motar gadi wale
kahi roti ke hai lale kahi chor chor kahi shor shor
sab kisne chakkar dale kya soch raha matwale
dunia ke khel nirale

koi pocket mar ke jeeta koi khun garib ka pita
koi pocket mar ke jeeta koi khun garib ka pita
par jo hai mehnat karta nahi pet hai uska bharta
par jo hai mehnat karta nahi pet hai uska bharta
nahi pet hai uska bharta kya soch raha matwale
dunia ke khel nirale kahi motar gadi wale
kahi roti ke hai lale kahi chor chor kahi shor shor
sab kisne chakkar dale kya soch raha matwale
dunia ke khel nirale

kahi bukh kahi bekari jaha tan ko beche nari
kahi bukh kahi bekari jaha tan ko beche nari
har aankh me aasu machle kab dekh ye dunia badle
har aankh me aasu machle kab dekh ye dunia badle
kab dekh ye dunia badle kya soch raha matwale
dunia ke khel nirale kahi motar gadi wale
kahi roti ke hai lale kahi chor chor kahi shor shor
sab kisne chakkar dale kya soch raha matwale
dunia ke khel nirale

The drunkard dreams, a world of strange design,
Where some in motors gleam, while others dine
On meager scraps. Where thieves and cries collide,
Whose twisted hands have spun this weary tide?
What dreams you have, drunkard, in this bizarre show?
Where some in motors gleam, while others know
Of empty plates, where thieves and cries are heard,
Whose wicked scheme has left the soul so stirred?
What dreams you have, drunkard, in this bizarre show?

Some thrive by theft, and feast on pauper's blood,
While honest toil finds little understood.
The toiler's hungry, his belly yearns and aches,
While his relentless labor barely breaks
The surface of need. What dreams you have, drunkard?
Where some in motors gleam, while others are charred
By hunger's flame, where thieves and cries resound,
Whose cruel design has left the lost unbound?
What dreams you have, drunkard, in this bizarre show?

Where hunger stalks, and idleness does reign,
And flesh is sold, a trade of endless pain.
Each eye weeps tears, a silent, mournful plea,
When will this world transform, and truly be?
When will the change come? What dreams you have, drunkard?
Where some in motors gleam, while others are scarred.
By emptiness, where thieves and cries take hold,
Whose ancient tale remains yet to be told?
What dreams you have, drunkard, in this bizarre show?