Party Songs

by Brendan Bonsack

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03:04
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03:10
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04:27
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02:40
10.
03:08

credits

released November 8, 2012

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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.

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Track Name: Everybody Hungers
Everybody here, everybody hungers
Buoyed by reveries, avoiding those of strangers
Everybody greeds,
Everybody hungers

I build a tunnel to your face
Through books and bags
And people with their papers,
Pressed, creased and laced with
Inky inky words, dusty ink
Leaching into finger prints

Your songs are yours and yours alone -
O' would I were a song within
Your private megaphones
Does everybody greed?
Does everybody hunger?

I looked across the future and I saw only pain,
A feverish cloud of passion
Then a stalking slow malaise
Then, leaning on a steering wheel
With ashen eyes and words tending to dust
And broken seals,
The noise recedes, the light congeals.

You find a tunnel to my face,
Book surrenders delicately,
Almost imperceptibly
Excepting if you're anxious to perceive
'Cos everybody greeds, everybody hungers

Eyes locked in fierce tug-o-war
You never want to be the first to fall,
Or even worse to be the first not to fall,
The universe a cotton-ball
Dry of all the possible.

I looked across the future and I saw only pain,
A feverish cloud of passion
Then a stalking slow malaise
Then, leaning on a steering wheel
With ashen eyes and words tending to dust
And broken seals,
The noise recedes, the light congeals.
Track Name: K
This is not the first time, K,
you felt like Joseph K or JFK,
Watching it all slip away down
the motorcade on a video replay
Over and over again all a mess
all a blur never get to
The bottom of this, or the top,
always somewhere in-between
Why are you so forgiving?

Each loose tap, shadow and squeaky board
is a habit-forming agent.
Does it come down to silly things like
dreading the thought of going through
the drawer and deciding
who owns what knife and which fork?

This is not the first time, K, you felt like
Helen K., not too blind to see that
"security is a superstition", but that's not
how you'd like it to be,
walking too slow to outrun the rain,
too fast to slow the passing cars,
shit I'm in the middle of nowhere,
somewhere in-between an angry lover and a payphone
and Mars,
name this feeling after water,
the canyons it carved in his face
through the windscreen, the voice
merged with the drum of the rain
and the tribal rhythm of the faulty muffler,
and the sawing of the worn-out wipers,
the silence that hung in the air after screaming
and, K, he seemed like a fragile little boy,
all small and shameful;
How do you turn this pity to hate,
How do you escape the confusion?
Why do you forgive?

Everyone looks for something to blame,
you smile at the stupidity, futility of you,
direct accusations -
the party,
the drink,
the drugs,
overwork,
just stress,
not enough sex,
was it something I said, or something someone else said,
or something someone else said that I said,
these things cut through your head, K,
Why are you so forgiving?

Each mutual friend or dinner with parents
tightens the grip of the circle,
Explain this to shadows or the water
disappearing down the plug-hole of the shower:

It's not like this happens every day.
Track Name: Flame Songs
I hear the dead singing
In the whisper of the flame
Rings of little choirs
Marking out the days

Songs of lively lovers
Who never meant to go
Of lonely brothers lost
Who you never got to know

Of infants who scarcely knew
Breath in their lungs
Pressing their shimmering
Flaming songs

My roaring little circle
Why do you call to me
In ancient tongues of fire
As I await the rise of steam?

Songs of glass and dashboard
And the last road that you saw
Of plastic tubes and night nurses
Who were too nice to ignore

They sing to me a squealing storm
Of a warmth I can't return
I can only watch them burn
Track Name: My Electric Chair
Wrap my heart in fairy lights
So I can sit adrift and watch the scene
Of me blinking on and off like a motel sign
Through a rainy car windscreen

Mouth is dry, creatures fly
And arch their backs across my eyes
Someone put wheels on
My electric chair

Bathe my heart in a strange embalm
So I can feel the blissful standing still;
I will cease to blink and shine
We stir your body
And pour it into mine.

Tall sky, take a slice,
Lay it out across the ice,
Someone put wheels on
My electric chair

Wrap my heart in bubble wrap,
So I can feel, so I can just feel
The close comfort, the crumpled comfort
The sweet compulsion, the sweet addiction.

Mouth is dry, creatures fly
Wheel and dive across my eyes
Someone put wheels on
My electric chair

Fingernails numb, creatures sliding off the tongue,
Someone put wheels on
My electric chair

String of lights beating time,
I've yet to find, complete my crime
Someone put the wheels on.
Track Name: All that is Solid Melts into Air
All that is solid
Melts into air
You find yourself wavering
At the rail of the stairs
With recalitrant feet
And just enough breath
To speak but there aren't any words

Those that were spoken
Have been here before
They reasoned, they shouted
And pleaded and swore
And they hung in the still
And the heaviest of air
That was solid enough to burn

All the candles will shrink to profanity
All their darkness remind you of light
She'd be brushing her hair by the vanity
Her ribbons discarded and untight

Here is my kingdom
O lobby of kings
A suitcase and keyring
With my lockless keys
And a picture and a name that I carry with me
And a hand-ful of hooks for your wall

All that was rightfully
Soon became wrong
I hear Ozymandias had a glorious fish pond
But they dined on their opulent friends
Small to large
When the hands that had fed them were gone

Every toe print she left in the sand
Chasing the kite that was fleeing our hands
Will be sealed with embers
And the melt of the earth
And in time they'll paint
Something that was nothing like her

Here is my kingdom
O lobby of kings
A suitcase and keyring
With my lockless keys
And a picture and a name that I carry with me
And a hand-ful of hooks for your wall
Track Name: A New Toy
I am your boy, you operate me by coins.
To assemble me you join the heart to the loins
With a rubber band twisted by hand and
Stretched to implausible size.

You reach around and find the slot in my back ?
I'm only young, so I've only got one
And it likes that metallic touch.
It takes all denominations
(well, you said "no complications")

Am I all you hoped for? Or too plastic and strange?
When your pockets run empty, I start looking for change.

For extra fun go buy yourself a can
And fill me twice a week with Essence of Man ?
It starts with a "T" and it helps make me free
Of the burden of needing to care
And then I'll say anything ? anything you want ?
For you to take me into your hands.

Am I all you wished for? All shiny and full of zeal?
I never tire, but these coins in my feet are like lead
And my head is just aching for something that's real.

I'm your coin-operated male,
Just another one of your things;
And if I should fail, cracks in my rubber, flab in my springs,
Then will you sit in the lonely stillness and quiet of night
And yearn to hear that sweet ka-ching?

That sweet ka-ching
Our sweet ka-ching
Track Name: Selling the End of the World
The city greets me like a surgery
Before the juice arrives
Pigeons jostling, apostling
The bearers of discarded delights

People counting down to growing old
Bowing their heads at the hole in the wall
There was a King and he gave me these wheels
And a Word on a board to absorb any stone from the crowd

Oh, Lord, don't you see my sign?
Everybody does but they don't wanna know it
It's a tough gig selling
The End of the World
But somebody's gotta do it

Count the rings to the answer machine
Note the noises of the house they're in
Baby coos over the sounds of a war
Must be a single mother with a teenage boy

Theft, fire and fatal disease
Heaven help you if you get all three
I know a savior for ten dollars a week
And just a sign on the line to the Word of the Policy

Oh man, don't they hear me call?
Everybody does but they just ignore it
It's a tough gig selling
The End of the World
But somebody's gotta do it

The numbers greet me like a lover with news
To calculate the heavens is a solemn pursuit
Night sky so peaceful, it's hard to know
Why something so lonely should be throwing stones

There will be placard waving when I file my report
They'll be blaming fornicators and the mini skirt
And penning plucky headlines for the morning release
And they'll pencil in my Armageddon
And even name it after me

Oh, will they ever understand?
Everybody does but they don't know how to say it
It's a tough gig selling
The End of the World
But somebody's gotta do it
Track Name: A Dead Man's Clothes
In a dead man's sleeves
You can feel the sea
Coursing round your hairs
Even though you're not even there

Wearing dead man's pants
You can step through each dance
On your ways to work
His partner with her cheek upon your shirt

In a dead man's clothes
In a dead man's clothes

Every dead man's tie
Is a Bridge of Sighs
The knot against your throat
Never lies upon the creases of its ghost

A dead man's shoes
Have heard every excuse
They don't take to shine
They step in and out of time despite of you

In a dead man's clothes
In a dead man's clothes

The dead man's gloves
Press upon your palms
The hands of all his children
Waiting with him in the rain and counting cars

In a dead man's clothes
All dressed-up for the show
Your fingers finding pockets
And your shoulders finding arcs they've never known

In a dead man's clothes
All the ceilings never seem as low
In a dead man's clothes
All the figures in the room begin to glow
In a dead man's clothes
In a dead man's clothes
Track Name: 1000 Letters
With one ear on your heartbeat
And a million uncertain wishes
A guessing hand across your shape
I am inventing you.

Ticking clock of a bathroom tap
And the sex scene on the TV set
The unwinding of the winding road
The curling of my frozen toes.
Search in my schizophrenic pockets
And you'll find 1000 letters
That will mean to you
Nothing.

With both eyes upon the road
And my mind wandering in disaster
Your fragile form splintered in my care
Dear friend, this fear consumes
What I have written.

Ticking clock of a bathroom tap
And the sex scene on the TV set
The unwinding of the winding road
The curling of my frozen toes.
Search in my schizophrenic pockets
And you'll find 1000 letters
That will mean to you
Nothing.

Your muted symphony, lying in wait
to exhale, to assuage my amniotious state
of counting white lines -
they blur and they curve
and they roll me headlong to
the edge of the earth.

With one ear on your heartbeat
And a million uncertain wishes
A guessing hand across your shape
I am uncovering you.
Track Name: Party Songs
This party is long
Its songs are all wrong
Hasty keys don't quite match the door
Submarine laughter
Clinging to the walls

All the water that found you
And decided to stay
I felt every bubble
And every cascade
Traveling my skin
In search of a way
And I am etched
By each invitation

Without the strings we fashion
Into fast and bright allures
Without light enough to synthesize
Our crimsons and azures
And reposed in your hands
I'm neither woman nor man
Without number
Without name
Without face

Do you still hear the party drums
Clocking out the party songs
Of shapely and forever-love
Of together-til-the-end-of-love
(But never near the end of love)
Ooh baby ooh
Yeah baby yeah
mmm baby mmm

But within this soft horizon
Ruffled on our skin
Within the wetness
And the salty dull perfume
And reposed in your hands
I'm neither woman nor man
Without keys
Without song
Within you