(Sinead O'Connor) 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