[Verse 1] I was born in the fire of the blacksmith’s breath, Hammered under stars on the endless steppe. Iron and oak, my body was made, To ride with the Khan where the banners waved. I hung at a warrior’s side through the cold, Felt his heartbeat steady, his spirit bold. When the horns cried out and the dust rose high, I woke in his grip beneath the open sky. [Pre-Chorus] I have tasted the wind of a thousand rides, I have sung with the horses side by side. Now the ground is red and the air is thick— I remember every life I took. [Chorus] I am the Mongol axe, I am the storm’s own tooth, I have drunk the blood of kings and youth. From the walls of cities to the open plain, I have carved my name in the falling rain. Swing me high, swing me true, I was made for the work I do. I have seen the world through the eyes of war— And I still thirst for more. [Verse 2] I remember the day the walls came down, Stone and timber scattered on the ground. I felt the shock when bone met blade, The sudden warmth as the life-blood sprayed. I rode through Persia, through Khwarazm’s pride, Through the smoke of Baghdad and the rivers wide. I have kissed the throat of a Chinese lord, And answered the prayers of the steppe with steel and cord. [Pre-Chorus] I have slept in the dirt where the bodies lay, I have woken to the sound of another day. Rain has washed me, snow has kissed my edge— Still I carry every crimson pledge. [Chorus] I am the Mongol axe, I am the storm’s own tooth, I have drunk the blood of kings and youth. From the walls of cities to the open plain, I have carved my name in the falling rain. Swing me high, swing me true, I was made for the work I do. I have seen the world through the eyes of war— And I still thirst for more. [Bridge] Some nights the wind still whispers their names, The ones who fell beneath my claim. I do not weep. I do not pray. I only wait for the next bright day When a new hand lifts me to the sun And the circle of blood begins again. [Final Chorus] I am the Mongol axe, I am the storm’s own tooth, I have drunk the blood of kings and youth. Centuries later, my edge still sings Of the endless steppe and the endless kings. Swing me high, swing me true— The earth remembers what I do. I have seen the world through the eyes of war… And I still thirst for more.
