Three Blind Mice

Running for the hills
Running for his life
Like three blind mice from a butchers knife
Each and every night

Haunting sights from childhood eyes
To Dali landscapes running wild
The memories dreams can find

He protects his bones with sticks and stones
But who can fight
The thoughts that bruise the mind

Throwing punches in his sleep
He's paralyzed from fist to feet
Shaking in his sheets

In broken words he tries to speak
His tongue tied in straight jacket sleeves
Silence drowns his screams

He protects his bones with sticks and stones
But who can fight
The thoughts that bruise the mind



Credits
Writer(s): Dp, Amy Moynihan Heyward
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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