jhuthe vado ne maar dala
jhuthi baato ne maar dala
jhuthe vado ne maar dala
jhuthi baato ne maar dala
shikva kaanto se kuch bhi nahi
shikva kaanto se kuch bhi nahi
humko phulo ne maar dala
mithi baato ne maar dala

baato baato me ye diwana bana dete hai
inpe karna na bharosa ye saza dete hai
par yu ulfat ka ye is tarah wada karte hai
balki ye kaate har dil me rakha karte hai
isko ulfat ko liye ek khel samjh baithe hai
chahne walo se bekaar ulajh baithe hai
jahar kha lena magar dil na lagana inse
ho sake jitna nigaho se bachana
kyo jhuthe vado ne maar dala
jhuthi baato ne maar dala
jhuthe vado ne maar dala
jhuthi baato ne maar dala
shikva kaanto se kuch bhi nahi
shikva kaanto se kuch bhi nahi
humko phulo ne maar dala
mithi baato ne maar dala

humne dekha na kabhi inko zara bhi tan ke
inke kadamo me rahe chahne wale ban ke
ham to milte hai hasino se chup chup ke
baat bhi karte hai inse bhut ruk ruk ke
ham nahi karte kabhi pyar ka dawa jhutha
inke gajaro ke liye humne chaman ko luta
le ke dil aise akad jana aji thik nahi
apna haq maangte hai tumse koi bheekh nahi
bas jhuthe vado ne maar dala
jhuthi baato ne maar dala
jhuthe vado ne maar dala
jhuthi baato ne maar dala
shikva kaanto se kuch bhi nahi
shikva kaanto se kuch bhi nahi
humko phulo ne maar dala
mithi baato ne maar dala

False promises, a killing blow,
False whispers, watch the spirits go.
False promises, a deadly art,
False whispers, tearing souls apart.
No grievance lodged against the thorn,
No wound the prickly briars have sworn.
'Twas the flowers, sweet and frail,
That left us broken, pale.
The honeyed words, a poisoned dart.

In conversation, they ensnare,
And weave a web of false despair.
Trust not their vows, their gilded lies,
For punishment behind them lies.
They feign affection, a tender plea,
Yet in each heart, a thorn you'll see.
They treat love as a game they play,
And tangle with those who love each day.
Swallow poison, but shun their art,
Guard your vision, your very heart.
Why false promises, a killing blow,
False whispers, watch the spirits go?
False promises, a deadly art,
False whispers, tearing souls apart.
No grievance lodged against the thorn,
No wound the prickly briars have sworn.
'Twas the flowers, sweet and frail,
That left us broken, pale.
The honeyed words, a poisoned dart.

We never met them, face to face,
Yet at their feet, we sought our place.
We meet the fair, in shadows deep,
And speak to them, our vows to keep.
We make no boast of love’s true flame,
Though gardens fell to feed their name.
To take a heart, then stand aloof,
Is wrong, a cruel and heartless proof.
We ask no alms, we seek no prize,
But false promises, before our eyes,
A killing blow, a deadly art,
False whispers, tearing souls apart.
False promises, a killing blow,
False whispers, watch the spirits go.
False promises, a deadly art,
False whispers, tearing souls apart.
No grievance lodged against the thorn,
No wound the prickly briars have sworn.
'Twas the flowers, sweet and frail,
That left us broken, pale.
The honeyed words, a poisoned dart.