Richard W. Chapman

Richard W. Chapman


I am a songwriter searching for truth and a way to share it.


I've been writing for as long as I can remember, but my short attention span tends to hinder my ability to see ideas through to completion. My life is littered with outlines, false starts and forgotten stories abandoned as passion waned.

However, my pen never dried and the words started instinctively fitting into a form. Songwriting found me. And while my musical ability is depressingly minimal, the handful of pages nervously handed over to a musician-friend produced results exciting enough to make me consider the possibility that my words could someday be heard.

Early attempts brimming with cliché broken-heart laments led to deeper introspection, which in turn led to the search for something real. Something other than detachment that connects all of these apathetic faces passing me on the street.

I have yet to find answers, but I feel the words are leading the way. If something I write can touch even one person, it's a start. A connection. And from there, anything is possible.

My musical hero is the late Elliott Smith whose music and words touched my soul when I had disconnected myself from the world and feared feeling anything. He showed me the beauty of the world despite (or perhaps because of) the ugliness around me. Like a flower from a flame. His memory and music inspires me everyday.


smoke & mirrors

Written By: Richard W. Chapman

cast yourselves as shadows
to better view the show
nurtured my affliction
afraid to let me grow

a flower in this soil
may not ever bloom
and no one blames the razor
for being in the room

this whole town was smoke and mirrors
walked away, it disappeared
shed the cast like sickened skin
the scars below, familiar friends
(End Chorus)

did you ever love the man
or just the role he played
beautiful destruction
nestled deep within the cave

i started chasing freedom
you thought i ran away
now your shoulder's frozen
and there's nothing left to say


so sorry for my smile
the dagger in your back
tragic consequence
of the lesser traveled path

looking out for number one
inside your stilted view
focus now and you will see
i was always number two


st. misery's parade

Written By: Richard W. Chapman

a needle in arm
and she's got a name
the peace that i find
is not worth the pain
confuses the mind
and poisons the heart
this toxic fall's
a familiar part
the role of a junkie
blessed by fate
assures the fix is
not worth the wait

with god on my side
i'm not afraid
to march down the street
st. misery's parade
(End Chorus)

the floats are all filled
with people like me
who haven't the strength
to realize their dreams
children are laughing
it falls on deaf ears
the doctors prescribe
a jury of peers
crowd loses interest
as we shuffle by
failing to notice
that we walk with pride


last time our eyes met
you cried out to me
this isn't the time
or place we can be
well, maybe it is
and maybe it's not
maybe i loved you
but now i forgot
you found your freedom
though it cost you us
ashes to ashes
returned me to dust


no name #3

Written By: Richard W. Chapman

avoiding my reflection
who never looks away
counting on distractions
to get me through the day

lucid dream turned primal scream
falls deaf upon your ears
actors pulling all the strings
just like they have for years

i'll just light a cigarette
and put my mind at ease
the world is always colder
when it's knocked you to your knees
(End Chorus)

failing to see the glory
wrapped tight in apathy
writing all these stories
no one will ever read

disappointment mounting
as years keep passing by
my higher brain keeps shouting
my heart can only sigh