This Angular Mohabbat Fashioned out of old wives tales Of failed romances, dead Mahiwals and broken hearts A tapestry of faded old songs. Their meaning now buried under the years Shadowed by the daily routine, This Angular Mohabbat So black and white like sacred pianos of Time Voice garbled by the sadness of being alive, An orchestra of Beatle look-alikes Our madness now accentuated by the rising sun All those people we talked to now dead Poets that no longer kill, disappearing along their own trials Crying out Khatam-Shud, Khatam-Shud Khatam-Shud, Khatam-Shud Khatam-Shud, Khatam-Shud -- Tz