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 fall--well, I know I shall be caught,