Of Burning Things

by Brendan Bonsack

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

      $9 AUD  or more

     

1.
02:32
2.
02:36
3.
4.
02:33
5.
6.
02:22
7.
03:23
8.
9.
10.

credits

released May 14, 2011

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

Brendan Bonsack

Brendan Bonsack is a poet and songwriter from Melbourne, Australia. These are his own brand of folk and pop songs, described as poems with dance partners.

contact / help

Contact Brendan Bonsack

Streaming and
Download help

Track Name: Ash
The ash gets in your tongue
And follows you around
It's there in your drinks
It's there in your kisses
Ash gets in your tongue

It's with you in the queue
Waiting at the bank
It's on hold with you
It gets old with you
Ash gets in your tongue

And it tastes like you are running
And it tastes like you should run
It tastes like you were running
But you never made it, son

Ash gets on your breath
And everybody knows
It's there in your talk
It's there in your kisses
Ash gets on your breath

It's with you in the car
As the officer steps out
It's in the lights and the rain
It does all the explaining
Ash gets on your breath

And it tastes like you are running
And it tastes like you should run
It tastes like you were running
But you never made it, son

Ash gets in your nails
Far from prying teeth
It lights every kettle
And kerosene lamp
Ash gets in underneath

It's with you in the morning
Reaching for the hair of your wife
It washes your faces
Pulls on your shoes
Raises the spoons to feed you

And it tastes like you are running
And it tastes like you should run
It tastes like you were running
But you never made it, son
Track Name: Calling
At night I hear you calling out her name
Do you find her in your dreams
All heated and brave?

At night when every sound is ten feet tall
Do you hear her in the house with you
Her palms against the door?

Calling out your name
Calling out your name

At night I hear you standing by the water
Urgent fingers pressing, breaking foil
Floating in the Kelvinator hum
The light stretches out like a cast

Holding to your face
Holding to your face

At night I feel you running for the lake
Anchored to the sheets and all in vain
At night I feel you clawing for the sack-cloth sky
And I am just a ghost from where you are

Calling out your name
Calling out your name
Track Name: Night of the Horses
Is this how the world ends, mama
Under a blanket in the car?
10,000 horses bolting around us
And squealing as they pass?

I remember the touch of this wool
It reminds me of toast and jam
And sitting up late in the torchlight
And reading right through to the end

Is this what it comes to, mama?
Just nowhere else to go?
My mightiest tree thrashed in flame
Her feet buried deep in the earth

I remember the touch of that tree
Twisted and sure, she invited you in
Way up over the town
Till the sun went away

The burning horizon found us
A 10,000 horsepower train
Scrambling and wrestling and screaming
It's the Night of the Horses today

How did the world end, mama?
All these children in rows on the floor
Arrived in a state of adventure
White ladies giving them toys

Men stand in line at the phone booth
But I can't hear a thing behind the glass
Mama is this how the world ends?
With nobody
Nobody left to ask?
Track Name: First Rains
The first rains come and the blackness runs
Runs like ink
Runs like oil
Crawls over the soil
Invading the dust
It weeps from the trees
Over your feet
In the center of town it is chased down the street

The first rains wake and head for the lake
Plunging in
They cannot swim
Consumed by the cold
Bottomless beast
It beats and it wails
Bounces and flails
This cacophonous hole was the wrong destination

The first rains run to you
Collide with you
Stick to you
In behind your clothes
Hand on your lips
Like each one of this
Was begging for a sound
Goading you to stand
And outrun the drumming

The first rains come
All around
See the people running
Track Name: Someone is Always to Blame
So say the men of Science
So say the men of God
Someone is always to blame

So say the blue shirts of the town
And the khaki of the forest
Someone is always to blame

So say the white shirts in the city
And the t-shirts on the Net
Someone is always to blame

So say the reporters
Wearing their serious faces
Someone is always to blame

So say the politicians
With their shiny entourage
Someone is always to blame

So says the guy
Pulling beers at the bar
Someone is always to blame

So says the neighbour
With a shaking cup of tea
Someone is always to blame

So say the kids in the playground
And their friends all agree
Someone is always to blame
Track Name: Crow
Crow, I do not know you
Though I feel like I should
You eye me like a trespasser
One eye at a time, head to the side

Astray from your army of foragers
Crunching and stalking the soil
You eye me like a ghost
On the edge of your thoughts
Like a breeze off-course
Like a feather of the fallen

Crow, you do not know me
Though we may have met before
You may have perched on the wire
With my words passing through
Humming in your shoes

Astray from your army of fliers
Pondering the strange motorways
You eye me like I could tell you
If I knew what to say
If I knew what to say
If I knew what to say
Track Name: Rear Vision Mirror
I think the last time that I saw him was
West of the border where the trees are black and
Blue is not the colour of the sky

Hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans
And his wild hair was powdered with
Our familiar ash

I see his face in every corner
Of each and every rear vision mirror
Of every car I drive
And every face in every corner
Of each and every rear vision mirror
Reminds me of our last night

I think the last time that I saw him was
Out by McCarthy's Road where the pictures on the trees
Are all faded and torn

Wires in his ears and his shirt of just a year ago
Moving in a circle
Erecting dust around his shoes

I see his face in every corner
Of each and every rear vision mirror
Of every car I drive
And every face in every corner
Of each and every rear vision mirror
Reminds me of our last night

I think the last time that I saw him was
Down by the tracks and the water tower
With its rusted constellations

Lips dry and every muscle spidering
A place to catch the sun
Or climb above one

I see his face in every corner
Of each and every rear vision mirror
Of every car I drive
And every face in every corner
Of each and every rear vision mirror
Reminds me of our last night
Track Name: The Appointment
Lie with me my darling
We'll talk of burning things
The black urgency of the horses' eyes
Melted in the street

The faint smell of hibiscus
The cracks around your lips
Slowly painted over
In some morning before this

My love, I stood for days
Trying to piece back into place
All the words that fused together
In the fluffy ashen pages

I surrendered every one of them
And the case that couldn't come with them
Just to be with you
To be surrounded by your room
With its outline of a fireplace
Behind the chair, by the fern

Talk with me my darling
We'll lie of burning things
The girl ablaze by the lake
Though I could never have seen it

Your light breeze from the ceiling fan
And traffic hum downstairs
That thing you do with your left foot
At the edge of the carpet squares

My love, I could never sleep
Beneath the blankets nor the sheets
Beyond the new meridian
Scratched into my years

I surrendered every one of them
The long long days, the months of green
Just to be with you
To be surrounded by your room
With its sunlight on an absent mantle
And the hour ending soon
Our hour ending soon
Track Name: House of Rebecca
Here was the house of Rebecca
Who prayed at seven every night, I know
Because I did not and she always thought
I must be joking

Here was her old window
That silently took us inside
Her mother's muffled enquiries
Rumbling in the house
Like some distant thunder

Here was her bedpost
She hid tightly-wound comics in
Here a chest from India
You could squeeze and fit
The both of us in

Here was her dog always asleep on the chair
Here was her box of secrets
Beneath the third along the stairs
Here's where she burnt her hands
On the candles that her father
Always kept there

Here was the house of Rebecca
A car park now for the store
Selling tea cakes and trinkets for tourists
They can sit on the balcony and listen
To the rumble of thunder in the hills
Before the next bus comes