The killer lives inside me: I can feel him move
Sometimes he's lightly sleeping in the quiet of his room,
but then his eyes will rise and stare through mine;
he'll speak my words and slice my mind inside
The killer lives
The angels live inside me: I can feel them smile
Their presence strokes and soothes the tempest in my mind
and their love can heal the wounds that I have wrought
They watch me as I go to fall--well, I know I shall be caught,
For the angels live
How can I be free?
How can I get help?
Am I really me?
Am I someone else?
But stalking in my cloisters hang the acolytes of gloom
and Death's Head throws his cloak onto the corner of my room and I am doomed
But laughing in my courtyard play the pranksters of my youth
and solemn, waiting Old Man in the gables of the roof: he tells me truth
And I, too, live inside me and very often don't know who I am:
I know, I'm not a heroI hope that I'm not damned
I'm just a man, and killers, angels, all are these:
Dictators, saviours
, refugees
in war and peace
as long as Man lives
I'm just a man, and killers, angels, all are these:
Dictators, saviours, refugees