khuda tumhe pranaam hai sadar
par tune di bas ek hi chadar
kya odhe kya bichhayenge
mere achche din kab aayenge
mere achche din kab aayenge
do roti aur ek langoti
ek langoti aur wo bhi chhoti
isme kya badan chhupaenge
mere achche din kab aayenge
mere achche din kab aayenge

mai khali khali tha mai khali khali hun
mai khali khali khoya khoya sa
mai khali khali tha mai khali khali hun
mai khali khali khoya khoya sa
mere achche din kab aayenge
mere achche din kab aayenge

ho git nahi ye mera dard hai dard hai
kaise ye rozana hi gata jaun mai
khali khali jebon mei khwab hai
khwab hai pure jo hote nahin
waqt hua nakhoon ke jaisa
bedardi se jisko main kaantun
roz zaroorat aur khawaish ke
bich mein khud ko kaise main baantu
mere tukde ho jayenge
mere achche din kab aayenge
mere achche din kab aayenge

mai khali khali tha mai khali khali hun
mai khali khali khoya khoya sa
mai khali khali tha mai khali khali hun
mai khali khali khoya khoya sa
mere achche din kab aayenge
mere achche din kab aayenge
mere achche din kab aayenge
mere achche din kab aayenge
mere achche din kab aayenge
mere achche din kab aayenge
na jane ye kab aayenge

To the Divine, a humble bow,
Yet, a single shroud, you allow.
What shall I wear? Where shall I lie?
When will my good days draw nigh?
When will my good days draw nigh?

Two loaves and a loincloth worn,
A small, threadbare cloth, forlorn.
How can I my body hide?
When will my good days coincide?
When will my good days coincide?

I was empty, and I remain,
Lost and adrift in the pouring rain.
I was empty, and I remain,
Lost and adrift, consumed by pain.
When will my good days embrace?
When will my good days find their place?

This is not a song, but a wound that bleeds,
How can I sing it, planting bitter seeds?
Empty pockets, dreams reside,
Dreams that vanish, nowhere to hide.
Time, a nail, with callous grace,
I clip it short, time's cruel embrace.
Each day, the need, the longing's fire,
How can I divide myself, higher and higher?
My pieces will scatter, drift away,
When will my good days light my way?
When will my good days hold their sway?

I was empty, and I remain,
Lost and adrift in the pouring rain.
I was empty, and I remain,
Lost and adrift, consumed by pain.
When will my good days arise?
When will my good days reach the skies?
When will my good days appear?
When will my good days draw near?
When will my good days be here?
When will my good days be clear?
When will these days finally appear?