Three blind men. Three blind men.
Stood side by side. Stood side by side.
Then one got to thinking it would be wise
to obtain a functional pair of eyes
by plucking them out, to the host's surprise,
for just two eyes.
Three blind men. Three blind men.
One shares his plan. One shares his plan.
They'll enter the house of a family of three
at night when they're sleeping so peacefully
and carve out their eyes very secretly
and then they'll see.
Three blind men. Three blind men.
Creep through the night. Creep through the night.
They've learned of a house on the edge of town
that sits by itself, not a soul around,
just the sounds of the three habitants resound
so safe and sound.
Three blind men. Three blind men.
Feel through the house. Feel through the house.
Their steps are as quiet as falling leaves,
when a gentle disturbance they do perceive,
the sound that so often escorts the eve:
the sound of sleep.
Three blind men. Three blind men.
Now is their chance. Now is their chance.
They've waited so calmly outside the door,
but patience just won't suffice anymore,
but with the blow of a four by four,
they hit the floor.
Three blind men. Three blind men.
Wake with a start. Wake with a start.
Their arms are kept bound with fishing line
behind their backs pressed against their spines.
They're seated immobile like butcher's swine
all in a line.
Three blind men. Three blind men.
Kept in the dark. Kept in the dark.
Then one of the men feels the touch of skin
so gentle and warm that it must have been
the hands of the woman who lived within.
"Guess I'll begin."
"Three blind men. Three blind men.
One at a time. One at a time.
You planned to pluck from beneath our nose
these eyes of which daily your envy grows
in attempt to end all your blinding woes.
But now you'll know."
"Three blind men. Three blind men.
Feel what it's like. Feel what it's like,
to have no sense of the world you plague
which once you blamed on your eyes, those vague
and empty pearls you'll soon serenade
after I've played."
Three blind men. Three blind men.
Soon truly blind. Soon truly blind.
Their hands are each bound from the wrist
ensuring no freedom if they resist
the sting of the pain that will long persist
the knife's sharp kiss.
Three blind men. Three blind men.
Rid of the world. Rid of the world.
Though once made blind in the sense of sight
are now made blind of their fingers' might,
their last worldly link seized by a carving knife's
ironic spite.
Three blind men. Three blind men.
See how they sulk. See how they sulk.
They all fell prey to the farmer's wife
who chopped off their fingers using a knife
have you ever seen such a sight in your life -
their envy's price?
