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about this song
The Msasas are Turning to gold and to red. In the light of the sun they're like fires. When the winter has gone and time has moved on, The memory will never grow tired. When we were first joined, she'd walk in the fields, Gathering the sunshine with her eyes. With her hair flowing long, she'd listen to my songs and give me all the love she couldn't hide. The Msasas are Turning to gold and to red. In the light of the sun (hmm, hmm, hmm) they're like fires.