These Mongol Plains

I swept down the Mongol Plains on a steed so true
Synaesthesia is a right real bitch when all you hear is blue
It's like a whistle on the Neva River back home in Petersburg
But right here, all I taste is red, the color of the horns I heard

Oh, on I ride, on Mongol Plains

In the dark I climbed a hill and smelled purple on the wind
Tomorrow there'll be heavy weather, I'll don my ibex skin
It feels yellow, like the golden fields around Nizhny Novgorod
But right now on the Mongol Plains, the horns are blaring red

Oh, on I ride, on Mongol Plains

Oh, on I ride, crimson-eyed
My sorrow stains these Mongol Plains



Credits
Writer(s): Dave Harvey
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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