The inquest
Excerpts from the diary of Richard McClenan (1971-1989)
April 6 (Thursday)
Mother,
Do you think of me as your son
Or am I just a complication
I need you now, I need you now
A woman of the eighties
You never have time for anyone
I know your shadow, not your face
It breaks the light in my lonely room
As I lie awake in thoughtful sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
Father,
Remember me I am your son
Or am I just a distraction
I need you now, I need you now
You live in a material world
People aren't people, they're what they own
With your keyboard fingers and green screen brain
Car phones, hotels, suitcases and planes
Please squeeze me in, I do exist
When time is money what price is love
April 9 (Sunday)
Even when I was young you didn't notice me
I was raised on helpers, TV and pity
When I cried for help you threw me money
All I wanted was a pound of your time
I feel
Pity for you and your mentality
Hate for you and what you've done to me
Resentment for all your selfishness
Content, content only within my emptiness
Here we see Richard's true mixture of emotions
Bitterness, rejection, contempt even hate
All of which began to plague him more and more in the following days
April 14 (Friday)
I would try to explain
But you would never listen
I would try to break through
That's the time you would shut me out
I'd just bottle up all my emotions
These feelings bite like a knot inside
This pain I carry in solitude
Chained to me in loneliness
Depression has me, he is my king
He shows the path that I must take
A perversion of justive of the saddest kind
To enter my dreams and I shall not wake
April 15 (Saturday)
As I sit by fading light
And write to you this final note
To exercise my divine right
A lump begins to swell my throat
You cannot see this tear-stained face
You cannot hear these tormented cries
If you don't understand my actions
Then you must read between the lines
And now I throw back in your face
The only gift for which you didn't pay
The gift of breath, of life, of being
Something I no longer see a purpose in
As I embrace eternal sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
Thoughtful Sleep Video (MV)
Acid Reign - Thoughtful Sleep Lyrics
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The inquest
Excerpts from the diary of Richard McClenan (1971-1989)
April 6 (Thursday)
Mother,
Do you think of me as your son
Or am I just a complication
I need you now, I need you now
A woman of the eighties
You never have time for anyone
I know your shadow, not your face
It breaks the light in my lonely room
As I lie awake in thoughtful sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
Father,
Remember me I am your son
Or am I just a distraction
I need you now, I need you now
You live in a material world
People aren't people, they're what they own
With your keyboard fingers and green screen brain
Car phones, hotels, suitcases and planes
Please squeeze me in, I do exist
When time is money what price is love
April 9 (Sunday)
Even when I was young you didn't notice me
I was raised on helpers, TV and pity
When I cried for help you threw me money
All I wanted was a pound of your time
I feel
Pity for you and your mentality
Hate for you and what you've done to me
Resentment for all your selfishness
Content, content only within my emptiness
Here we see Richard's true mixture of emotions
Bitterness, rejection, contempt even hate
All of which began to plague him more and more in the following days
April 14 (Friday)
I would try to explain
But you would never listen
I would try to break through
That's the time you would shut me out
I'd just bottle up all my emotions
These feelings bite like a knot inside
This pain I carry in solitude
Chained to me in loneliness
Depression has me, he is my king
He shows the path that I must take
A perversion of justive of the saddest kind
To enter my dreams and I shall not wake
April 15 (Saturday)
As I sit by fading light
And write to you this final note
To exercise my divine right
A lump begins to swell my throat
You cannot see this tear-stained face
You cannot hear these tormented cries
If you don't understand my actions
Then you must read between the lines
And now I throw back in your face
The only gift for which you didn't pay
The gift of breath, of life, of being
Something I no longer see a purpose in
As I embrace eternal sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
Excerpts from the diary of Richard McClenan (1971-1989)
April 6 (Thursday)
Mother,
Do you think of me as your son
Or am I just a complication
I need you now, I need you now
A woman of the eighties
You never have time for anyone
I know your shadow, not your face
It breaks the light in my lonely room
As I lie awake in thoughtful sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
Father,
Remember me I am your son
Or am I just a distraction
I need you now, I need you now
You live in a material world
People aren't people, they're what they own
With your keyboard fingers and green screen brain
Car phones, hotels, suitcases and planes
Please squeeze me in, I do exist
When time is money what price is love
April 9 (Sunday)
Even when I was young you didn't notice me
I was raised on helpers, TV and pity
When I cried for help you threw me money
All I wanted was a pound of your time
I feel
Pity for you and your mentality
Hate for you and what you've done to me
Resentment for all your selfishness
Content, content only within my emptiness
Here we see Richard's true mixture of emotions
Bitterness, rejection, contempt even hate
All of which began to plague him more and more in the following days
April 14 (Friday)
I would try to explain
But you would never listen
I would try to break through
That's the time you would shut me out
I'd just bottle up all my emotions
These feelings bite like a knot inside
This pain I carry in solitude
Chained to me in loneliness
Depression has me, he is my king
He shows the path that I must take
A perversion of justive of the saddest kind
To enter my dreams and I shall not wake
April 15 (Saturday)
As I sit by fading light
And write to you this final note
To exercise my divine right
A lump begins to swell my throat
You cannot see this tear-stained face
You cannot hear these tormented cries
If you don't understand my actions
Then you must read between the lines
And now I throw back in your face
The only gift for which you didn't pay
The gift of breath, of life, of being
Something I no longer see a purpose in
As I embrace eternal sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
Writer: Howard Smith
Copyright: Lyrics © TUNECORE INC
Copyright: Lyrics © TUNECORE INC