Rough draft recording - please make allowances....


I remember this so well, too well sometimes in the early hours. He became fixated with the consequences of death and decided that he had to “help” us come to terms with the fact that he would die. He felt that we were only hurting ourselves by loving him so much, as it would just make the pain of his death more painful.  And yet he needed us - some of the conversations were heart rending....


Allow me to die

Father

He’s not well

He’s schizophrenic, isolated and depressed

And joyless, hollow and so fake

His laughter

It must be the weed

Son

I am the loony who’s been

Hiding all this time

Biding and brewing

Till you can’t contain the signs

And it hurts you because


You care to much

To be there for me


Mother

But he’s our son

And as parents must crusade

To make sure that he knows that

He’s insane, he’s insane, he’s insane!

Because we love him - he’s our first-born!

To lose him would cremate our very bones

Son

I am the loony who

Be-plagues your sleepless nights

Biding and brewing

Till you can’t contain the signs

And you don’t see it because

.....

One day I’ll die

Would you let me die?

Allow me to die

And you’ll feel more alive than ever


You care too much

To be there for me

You care too much

To be there for me

You don’t need to speak

Just sit and listen

You don’t need to speak

Be there for me


I’ll be fine

I know you’re surprised

But my mind is not mine

And neither are yours

When you feel it you’ll see

That really I’m not so crazy

I’m not so crazy

I’m not so crazy