mai suit phnu yaa chaddi kisi ko kya
mai cricket khelu yaa kabbdi kisi ko kya
mai chand ko rakh lu pocket me
ya delhi jau rocket me kisi ko kya
mai chad ko rakh lu pocket me
ya delhi jau rocket me kisi ko kya
mad mad mad mad mujhe duniya khe
khti hai to khti rhe mujhko kya
mai suit pahnu ya chddi kisi ko kya
mai cricket khelu yaa kabbadi kisi ko kya

mai sunday ko khu monday kisi ko kya
main pani pe gadu jhnde kisi ko kya
mai haru jitu election
yaa ban jau mickel jection kisi ko kya
mai kambal odhu garmi me kisi ko
mai barf pe letu sardi me kisi ko kya
mai khet me plane chlauu
bina ticket america jauu kisi ko kya
mad mad mad mad mujhe duniya khe
khti hai to khti rhe mujhko kya

mai surat dekhu pani me kisi ko kya
mai baat kru japani me kisi ko kya
mai rassi se khichu rel mai pdh ke ho jau fail
mai chht pr ghode daurauu kisi ko kya
mai english dhun me gauu kisi ko kya
mai line maru bibi ko pyar kru duji ko kisi ko kya
mad mad mad mad mujhe dyniya khe
khti hai to khti rhe mujhko kya
mai roj ghumauu lrki kisi ko kya
mai sarabi hu wiski kisi ko kya

What care they if I wear a suit or shorts?
Or if I play cricket or Kabaddi's courts?
If I keep the moon within my pocket's hold,
Or rocket to Delhi, a story to be told?
What care they?

Mad, mad, mad, the world proclaims me so,
Let them speak, their words hold no sway below.
What care they if I wear a suit or shorts?
Or if I play cricket or Kabaddi's courts?

What care they if I call Sunday Monday's name?
Or plant my flags where waters rise and claim?
If I lose or win an election's game,
Or Michael Jackson's fame I softly claim?
What care they?

If I wrap a blanket in summer's heat,
Or lie on ice where winter winds do meet?
If I pilot a plane across a field's embrace,
And fly to America without a ticket's trace?
What care they?

Mad, mad, mad, the world proclaims me so,
Let them speak, their words hold no sway below.

What care they if I see my face in the water's gleam?
Or speak in Japanese, a whispered dream?
If I pull a train with ropes that softly bind,
Or fail in studies, a different path to find?
If I race a horse upon a rooftop's crest,
Or sing in English, putting words to test?
What care they?

If I pursue a love, a second one, or all,
Or speak in whispers that rise and fall,
Mad, mad, mad, the world proclaims me so,
Let them speak, their words hold no sway below.
What care they if I court a girl each day,
Or drink whiskey, and let the sorrows sway?