Man-Erg

( Hammill )

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.

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

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...

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.