|
Each of these |
|
My three babies |
|
I will carry with me |
|
For myself |
|
I ask no one else will be |
|
Mother to these three |
|
And of course |
|
I'm like a wild horse |
|
But there's no other way I could be |
|
Water and feed |
|
Are not tools that I need |
|
For the thing that I've chosen to be |
|
In my soul |
|
My blood and my bones |
|
I have wrapped your cold bodies around me |
|
The face on you |
|
The smell of you |
|
Will always be with me |
|
Each of these |
|
My three babies |
|
I was not willing to leave |
|
Though I tried |
|
I blasphemed and denied |
|
I know they will be returned to me |
|
Each of these |
|
My babies |
|
Have brought you closer to me |
|
No longer mad like a horse |
|
I'm still wild but not lost |
|
From the thing that I've chosen to be |
|
And it's 'cause you've thrilled me |
|
Silenced me |
|
Stilled me |
|
Proved things I never believed |
|
The face on you |
|
The smell of you |
|
Will always be with me |
|
Each of these |
|
My three babies |
|
I will carry with me |
|
For myself |
|
I ask no one else will be |
|
Mother to these three |
