Runtime: 10:34
Copy & paste to friend: (Click inside box; Ctrl + C to copy; Ctrl + V to paste)
 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.
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...
|
|
watch more videos!
Videos submitted by texasblues:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Peter Hammill ... Man-Erg |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|