Deathtrip (Excerpts from Michael Ryan’s Diary) – 12th September 1987

Watched the movie on the video
I wanna go out and down to skid row
Yeah baby, you bring out the Manson in me
I don’t need your psychiatry

I got sixteen rounds of ammunition
I’m set for my expedition
In my see-through world of pain
Someone’s gonna remember my name

Believe me, you don’t wanna live
You were born to die on my trip
How do I stop the buzzing sound
Maybe the answer lies in the town

I’m getting cold, I need a fire
I’m feeling like a crazy live wire
Let’s find the kids in school
Let them see my real world

Trapped at all directions
I want you in my collection
It’s time to die and I’m next
They’ll remember, and what I left

On August 19, 1987, Michael Ryan embarked on a shooting rampage through his hometown, known as the Hungerford massacre. It was, at the time, the deadliest mass shooting by a single individual in British history and led to major changes in UK firearm laws.

Kill Your Kids – 6th July 1987

Hate your family, middle aged man
Wanna get out, yeah, family man
Can’t take the pressure, about to explode
Take your gun and start to load

Kill your kids, daughter and son
You wanted to live fast and die young
Now it’s too late, so take revenge
Can’t stand to hear them again

Take a pick axe to their heads
Tie them up in their beds
Cut their limbs off one by one
Now you’re starting to have some fun

Down the pub, have a few beers
In your pocket, your daughter’s ears
Leave your wife to clear the mess
But you know she’s the next

Kill your kids and your wife
You just want the happy life
Free from screams and bad dreams
Not falling apart at the seams

“Man convicted for killing his family
Judge has sympathy
Four kids of his own
Driving him crazy
Two years with good behaviour”

Next day
Thousands of dead children

Wheel In Motion – 27th June 1987

This fire’s burning – crazy inside me
Flames licking my very souls
Since I started running from it
Just can’t seem to keep control

Forever, ever spinning round and round
Can’t get my feet to touch the ground
Just waiting for a positive notion
To stop this wheel in motion

This cruel and heartless life I lead
Is shaking me in my boots
No possession and always temptation
Dividing my from my roots

A fall from grace, a raging wind
Blowing my curtains wide open
Look through the window of my mind
Take a ride, why don’t you come inside?

Wheel spinning forever and on again
Endless path of endless lies and no open gates
Can’t stand still for the reaper’s fear
I know for me that heaven waits

Funky Things – 6th June 1987

I sit at home and watch TV
I try and count to three
I read a book yesterday
I fell asleep halfway

Try and think of things to do
Try and think of things to be
The doctor says to eat an apple
And I just watch TV

I like to count telephone rings
Sometimes I don’t like anything
I eat lots of strawberry ice cream
Something is not what it seems (but I forget)

I count the lampposts in my street
Ten funky things on my feet
I watch sand drying on the beach
I ate something which just didn’t agree

Dream Torture – 8th May 1987

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I walk in shadows and I talk in silence
I dictate my abuse and my violence
I cry loud and you cry louder
I’ll make you itch without a powder

Don’t talk to me about her
She is my love, she is my sun
She is mine, she is the one
She is my love, she is my hope
She’ll take my violence when I can’t cope
Don’t talk to me about her

I stir the dust and create the wind
I use emotions from deep within
Cracks in the sidewalk, my hiding place
I’ll make you itch when we’re face to face

Don’t talk to me about her
She is my love, she is my dream
She is mine, she is the cream
She is my love, she hides my sin
She’ll blinds my violence from deep within
Don’t talk to me about her

I have these visions of broken dreams
I have to hear my victim’s screams
I don’t see what my violence caused
So long as I know my problem’s solved

Tumbledown Hill – 3rd April 1987

Walking down long beaten tracks
Shuffling dust rises and falls
Birds whisper amongst the bows
Relaying long and distant calls

The sun beats down on broken backs
The fury transforms to lumber and bodies relax
When evening fall the fire’s are alight
Dancing together across the night

Screams breach the stillness and silence
The performance has begun
Many miles have been travelled
And many stories are to be sung

So the voices keep all hopes burning
The dark of night is slowly turning
Everything will fall silent and still
Except the singing of the will
Come lay beside me, on top of Tumbledown Hill

Idle chatter reverberates across the crowds
Fires ebb away as breakfast is eaten
The carnival against the sky, stands defiant
The peace and goodwill cannot be beaten

Stand aside you spectres and ghost of uniform
This is a free spirit which cannot be torn
Stand aside with your guns and shields
Violence is what your profession wields

Let the children dance naked in the rain
Let them free from your hypocrisy and pain
Let the flow of freedom gain
Let the freedom flow again

So the voice keep the spirit a-kindled
Even as the numbers dwindled
Everything will be silent and still
‘cept the singing of the will
Come lay down my darling, on top of Tumbledown Hill