uhhh

badi mitthi khushboo hain,
aur rang lal
jha se bhi hain dekho
lagta hain kamal,
badi mitthi khushboo hain,
aur rang lal
jha se bhi hain dekho
lagta hain kamal.
magar meine viliyaam ko khete suna hain,
phalo mein ye seb sabse bura hain.
are are re,
are seb hain seb
isko na phek
maja ayega to jara kahke to dekh,
iski phal ne adam ne muskil mein dala
ye uper se hain lal par ander se kala
ye najuk hai najuk ise mat uchalo
mohbbaat se rakhna tu iska khyal
tadapta raha hai, ye tere liye
issse jeb mein rakh khuda ke liye,
meri jeb ek bhi khali nahi hain,
inkar mera khyali nahi hain.
nahi jeb khali to hatho mein rakh,
tujhe mast kar degi iski mehak (aahh)
meri mastiya to hain botal mein band,
muje sirf fenni hain fenni pasand,
teri botolo ka nasha jhuta hain,
isii ne tujhe umaar bhar luta hain.
sabak de rahi hain muje zindgi ka
ye kamiya se meine bhut kuch hain sikha.
yha paas hote hain sab fail hokar,
ki sarrcus mein har kam karta hain joker.


badi baat khadi samajdar hain tu,
ki dukaan band aur kharidaar hain tu
milega kya tujko ye haddtaal karke,
ye bajar hain rakh jara mal bharke.
mein ghate ka shoda nahi karne vala,
ye ghrako se harghish nahi darne vala.
agar tune ye maal itna sambhala,
koi sarfira ye tod dega ye tala.
churane ki koi jarurt nahi hain,
mere maal ki itni kimat nahi hain,
ki kimat to kam hain magar taax jayada,
bata de jaldi ki kya hain iraada.
iraada..


na kuch parss mein hain na kuch seb mein hain,
mera pyar sara isii seb mein hain.
aaahh aachaa!
nahi nahi yha nahi
yha par nahi raat ko chhuup ke khana
issse khakar tu chhodd dega jamaana.

A scent of honey, a blush of red,
From every glance, a lotus bed.
A scent of honey, a blush of red,
From every glance, a lotus bed.

Yet William whispered, I have heard,
Of all the fruits, this one, abhorred.
Oh, oh, oh,
An apple, an apple, do not cast,
Taste it, and savor, time amassed.
Its fruit, for Adam, a shadowed plight,
Red on the outside, dark inside light.
Handle with care, delicate and frail,
Cherish it gently, do not assail.
It has yearned for you, a patient plea,
Hold it close, for God and me.
My pockets are full, a weighty plight,
My refusal, no phantom in sight.

If pockets are barren, cradle it in hand,
Its fragrance will lift you, understand.
My joys reside, in bottles deep,
Only Feni's fire, I choose to keep.
Your bottles’ rapture, a fleeting lie,
That robbed you blind, beneath the sky.
It teaches lessons, life's bitter sting,
From its flaws, I've learned everything.
Here, all fail, in their weary test,
Like clowns in the circus, put to the quest.

Wise words you speak, a knowing soul,
The shop is closed, and you're the whole.
What gain you seek, from this empty strike?
This market thrives, fill your wares alike.
I'm not one for losses, a mournful trade,
Nor fearful of customers, unafraid.
If you guard these goods, with watchful eyes,
A madman's hand, will break the ties.
No need to steal, I can impart,
My goods, not worthy of a stolen heart.
The price is low, the taxes high,
Tell me quickly, your purpose, why?
Purpose…

In purse or apple, no love I find,
My love resides, in this one of a kind.
Ah, yes!
No, not here,
No, not here,
At night, eat it in secret, beware!
Eat it, and leave the world's hold, and share.