作词 : Hammill
( 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.