sidha sadha har insan hota hai wo phul saman
sidha sadha har insan hota hai wo phul saman
insaniyat ke dusman dete hai itna dhokha
dukh me tapte tapte wo ban jata hai loha
loha loha loha loha

wo katil hasta hai ye ghayal rota hai
sada nirdosho par hi jurm kyu hota hai
chale na jab sachai paisa banta hai iman
neki insan ke andar jag jata hai shaitan
kanun se insan ka jab uth jata hai bharosa
dukh me tapte tapte wo ban jata hai loha
loha loha loha loha

kachahri kaha gayi thi kaha kanun tha khoya
sitam insan pe hua jab kaha bhagwan tha soya
najar ke samne jiski dunia lut jaye
uski jalti aankho me khoon kyu utar na aaye
badle ki aag bhadki jo us aag ko kisne roka
dukh me tapte tapte wo ban jata hai loha
loha loha loha loha

julm ka namo nishan na hoga dharti par
aaj hum nikle hai kafan bandhe sar par
mile nafrat jisko pyar wo kya dega
ek jaa ke badle jaha ko mita dega
dil ki adalat ka hota hai har insaf anokha
dukh me tapte tapte wo ban jata hai loha
loha loha loha loha

sidha sadha har insan hota hai wo phul saman
insaniyat ke dusman dete hai itna dokha
dukh me tapte tapte wo ban jata hai loha
loha loha loha loha

A simple soul, a tender bloom,
A simple soul, a tender bloom,
But foes of grace, they deal their blows,
And in the furnace, iron grows.
Iron, iron, iron, iron.

The killer laughs, the wounded weeps,
Why innocence the burden keeps?
When truth is mute and coin holds sway,
The devil stirs, and steals the day.
When faith in law begins to fade,
And sorrow's fire is fiercely made,
Iron, iron, iron, iron.

Where was the court, where did law hide?
When injustice on the innocent did ride?
When worlds are plundered, right before your eyes,
Why doesn't crimson flood the skies?
If vengeance burns, and rage takes hold,
Who will the fury then unfold?
Iron, iron, iron, iron.

No trace of cruelty on earth shall be,
We march forth now, in destiny.
If hate's the gift, what love can bloom?
For one life lost, a world consumed.
Within the heart, justice takes its throne,
And iron's justice will be known.
Iron, iron, iron, iron.

A simple soul, a tender bloom,
But foes of grace, they deal their gloom,
And in the furnace, iron grows.
Iron, iron, iron, iron.