The pitty patter of toes in the mud
Gone now, replaced with a twisted cord
Oh! What struggles come with a forced bride?
Which no memory of it, an eraser can wipe
What struggles come even harder for a child bride?
That tender voice so fragile and mild
If I could have all my wishes stand as horses
I will free all child brides with my forces
If I could tender a thousand wishes
I will free all child brides with my wishful riches.