The killer lives inside me: yes, 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.
Yes the killer lives.
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,
while 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 into
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 hero, well,
I 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...
| 1 | Pilgrims |
| 2 | Refugees |
| 3 | A Plague Of Lighthouse Keepers |
| 4 | Lost |
| 5 | House With No Door |
| 6 | Darkness (11/11) |
| 7 | Aerosol Grey Machine |
| 8 | My Room (Waiting For Wonderland) |
| 9 | Afterwards |
| 10 | When She Comes |