likhi hai ye vidhata ne kismat garib ki
maati ke mol bikati hai asmat garib ki
ye kaise duniya wale hai, tan ujle hai man kale hai
ye kaise duniya wale hai, tan ujle hai man kale hai
ye kaise duniya wale hai

jab kisi garib ke aangan me
koyi khilke kali muskati hai
jab kisi garib ke aangan me
koyi khilke kali muskati hai
in papi duniya walo ki
in papi duniya walo ki
aankho me hawas aa jaati hai
aankho me hawas aa jaati hai
ye sukhi roti ke badle, tan badan kharidane wale hai
ye kaise duniya wale hai

jab laaj ki chudi tutati hai
sindur kaa rang pighalata hai
jab laaj ki chudi tutati hai
sindur kaa rang pighalata hai
us waqt garib ke sine me
us waqt garib ke sine me
ik jwalamukhi jal uthta hai
ik jwalamukhi jal uthta hai
phir khud hi juba ban jate hai
ye hotho ke jo taale hai
ye kaise duniya wale hai

bhagwan bata kyo dhan wale
nirdhan par aisa julm kare
bhagwan bata kyo dhan wale
nirdhan par aisa julm kare
kyo ablao ki mang me ye
kyo ablao ki mang me ye
sindur ke badle rakh bhare
sindur ke badle rakh bhare
ye aap hi ijjat lutate hai
jo ijjat ke rakhwale hai
ye kaise duniya wale hai, tan ujle hai man kale hai
ye kaise duniya wale hai

Fate, a pauper's script, divinely penned,
Where honor, soil-cheap, meets its tragic end.
A world of faces, fair and bright,
Concealing shadows, steeped in night.
A world of faces, fair and bright...

When in a poor man's humble yard,
A bud unfurls, a smile unmarred,
When in a poor man's humble yard,
A bud unfurls, a smile unmarred,
These sinners of the world descend,
With lustful eyes that never end.
For crust of bread, they trade the form,
These brokers of the coming storm.
How cruel, this world, in guise of grace.

When modesty's bangles break apart,
And vermilion melts from the heart,
When modesty's bangles break apart,
And vermilion melts from the heart,
Then in the poor man's breast ablaze,
A volcano finds its fiery gaze.
Then in the poor man's breast ablaze,
A volcano finds its fiery gaze.
Then lips, once sealed, their silence break,
And words of fury now awake.
How cruel, this world, in guise of grace.

O God, why do the wealthy few,
On the impoverished, their wrath imbue?
O God, why do the wealthy few,
On the impoverished, their wrath imbue?
Why in the widows' parting line,
Do ashes of despair now shine?
These guardians of respect, they are,
Who steal the treasure from afar.
A world of faces, fair and bright,
Concealing shadows, steeped in night.
A world of faces, fair and bright...