Man-erg
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 fallwell, 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 hero.....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....
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