| Song | Man-Erg |
| Artist | Van Der Graaf Generator |
| Album | Real Time |
| 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. |
| zuò cí : 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. |