giragit ki tarah hai rag badalte faishan wale baabu
giragit ki tarah hai rag badalte faishan wale baabu
giragit ki tarah hai rag badalte faishan wale baabu
giragit ki tarah hai rag badalte faishan wale baabu

munh pe chune ki safedi tan pe kaalaa sut hai
taai aai hai kahi se to kisi kaa but hai
jeb me damadi nahi aur baate karate laakh ki
muft ki sigaret pi pi ke shaan hai ye aap ki
aur matak matak kar chalate hai faishan waale baabu
giragit ki tarah hai rag badalate faishan waale baabu

achchhi surat koi dekhi chat se aashiq ho gaye
kah diyaa bas tum hamaare ham tumhaare ho gaye
inki baato kaa nahi saahib mujhko koi aetabaar
inki baato kaa nahi saahib mujhko koi aetabaar
ye kapado ki tarah badalate maashuq bhi din me tin baar
ye kapado ki tarah badalate maashuq bhi din me tin baar
har nai shakl par machalate hai ye faishan waale baabu
har nai shakl par machalate hai ye faishan waale baabu
giragit ki tarah hai rag badalate faishan waale baabu

bholi bhaali surat waale hote hai sab bewafaa
inse jo ulfat kare ho jaaye duniyaa se safaa
aiso se hi karake ulfat baad me pachhataate hai
rag gulaabi dekh ke ye tere saaye mar jaate hai
rah rah ke haath phir malate hai ye faishan waale baabu
rah rah ke haath phir malate hai ye faishan waale baabu
giragit ki tarah hai rag badalate faishan waale baabu

Like chameleons, they shift their hues, these fashion's fleeting lords,
Like chameleons, they shift their hues, these fashion's fleeting lords,
Like chameleons, they shift their hues, these fashion's fleeting lords,
Like chameleons, they shift their hues, these fashion's fleeting lords.

A painted face, a suit of deepest black,
A tie from somewhere, someone's borrowed track.
No coin within the pocket, grand pronouncements made,
They puff on free cigarettes, a swaggering parade.
And with a sway, they walk, these fashion's fleeting lords,
Like chameleons, they shift their hues, these fashion's fleeting lords.

A pretty face they see, and love's flame ignites,
They vow, "You are my all, I am yours, in all delights."
Their words hold no truth, no substance to be found,
Their lovers change as often as the clothes they're bound.
Three loves a day, for them, the fickle game,
They crave each new face, and whisper each new name,
They crave each new face, these fashion's fleeting lords,
They crave each new face, these fashion's fleeting lords,
Like chameleons, they shift their hues, these fashion's fleeting lords.

Innocent faces hide a faithless heart,
Those who love them, from the world depart.
Loving such souls, brings sorrow's bitter sting,
They die for rosy shades, and all they claim to bring,
They rub their hands, the fashion's final plea,
They rub their hands, the fashion's final plea,
Like chameleons, they shift their hues, these fashion's fleeting lords.