Слова песни: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 + feed
Are not tools that I need
For the thing that I've chosen to be
In my soul
My blood + my bones
I have wrapped your cold bodies around me
The face on you
