1. |
Abel
02:43
|
|||
|
She's the sceptic that longs to be susceptible
But rests her faith in doubt.
He's the hermit that longs to be approachable,
But can't quite leave his house.
She's the portrait that longs to be collectable,
But hangs on office walls.
All the signs that seemed to give directions, all
have somehow led to falls.
I'm the coffee cup, caked up in residue,
my insides turned murky brown.
Years of content have taken their toll, where
lipstick left violet crowns.
We long to last in a life that's disposable,
to leave a mark on something.
But I'm the temporary, longing to be permanent,
where all ends long to begin.
|
||||
2. |
Find Me
04:10
|
|||
|
Of all of the days I’d hope to remember,
None of them fell upon last year’s December,
Alone at park benches, upon love note graffiti,
I’ve never felt distant and gone so completely.
It’s New Year’s morning, I’m twelve hours sober,
I slept ten ’til ten til the fireworks were over,
As I drift along in this empty part of space,
glitter polish on my nails, eight day beard upon my face.
My mind wanders idly, eyes drifting aimlessly,
Searching for someone who sits just beside me.
Yet this is now home, right here is my respite,
This nest full of spoils, reminiscence and phone light.
So if you wander my way, or in my direction,
Or a stop off for minutes between your train’s connection. Find me.
I pour out my drink with two straws, one for me and all my friends,
I drink it down behind closed doors, to make the mean hours end,
And I slip down beneath covers, shut the door, to not offend,
This misplaced of party guests, the deadest of ends,
And I wait up for the evening, to convene, to apprehend
Your collective calls out to me, the deadest of ends,
I couldn’t see all you meant to me, all the time we were friends.
|
||||
3. |
Nails
05:10
|
|
||
|
As nails fall upon our heads
the chair splits beneath its legs
the change we’d leave beside the bed
never counted, never spent
there’s no need to please
anyone but you and me
‘cause we’re the wreck
No one could covet where we lay
beside our empty yesterday
tomorrow looks to be the same
a lost pair of dreams
the days we’d both forget to eat
‘cause we’re the wreck
now we weave past each other and ignore
the draught that blows the dust across the floor
what is mine and what is your’s
doesn’t matter anymore
the disloyal seeds
that gave the soil to the weeds
we’re the wreck
I never know the words to say
they trip on red tape
they halt at my teeth, I wonder
What part of trouble calls your name
contorted aims
visions that veer us under
I breathe in all that you exhale
dust left us pale
ghosts to forget our hunger
the drinks that make it all go away
bent out of shape
sums with the oddest numbers
as I piece together all of your pain
we’ll find one place
to hold its shape tomorrow
|
||||
4. |
Homonym
05:53
|
|
||
|
Homonym, homonym, take pride in your sin
See past the place where I end and you begin
You have cut and paste your heart and your limbs
Find them on the clipboard or the recycle bin
Where’ve you been, little thing? Did the alarm bells ring?
Left like frightened mice, when the flames crept in?
What’s wrong Homonym? You’re tired and you’re thin,
A face in the mirror, longing for better skin.
And like pyramidic tombs, the skeletons of factories
On the skyline we’ll leave one more shameful old casualty
As a canvas, by and by, we bowed and we burrowed,
Beneath beams and the birth of the ascent of an arrow
And the garden, it grew, out of life or out of shame
You’d close every door, and I had nothing to say
And how I’d breathe your skin, like a ghost ingesting another
An eraser on paper, a daughter to a mother
And I see you now as simply, one half of a vision
The stitches that frame the straight line of incision
And the day where it ended, as the day I begin,
To know who you are, my little Homonym.
And I’ve forgotten my name,
From all we’ve done I see, you’re now part of me.
Where all things find their place,
The embers rise to be, the air the fire breathes.
|
||||
Homonym Vienna, Austria
Homonym is Michael Dey, a folk singer from West Yorkshire living in Vienna, Austria.
If you like Homonym, you may also like:
supported by 4 fans who also own “Homonym”
go to album
The Creature That I Call Myself
by Julie Arsenault
featured on Bandcamp Radio Apr 21, 2015
go to album
Darkness begins to creep into the corners on the latest from Itasca.
go to album
Pittsburgh artist Merce Lemon makes tender and open-hearted indie pop with echoes of Frankie Cosmos.
go to album
Sweet and honest bedroom pop made with the sparest of instrumentation and topped with poetically melancholy lyrics.
go to album
Write The Soil Lighter
by Mother Juniper
“Write The Soil Lighter” is full of beguilingly mysterious folk-adjacent music, shrouded in shadow and atmospherics.
go to album
The Same Mistakes
by Hot Left Pole
Soft-as-a-whisper folk music, with spiderwebs of guitar and vocal melodies as comforting as a lullaby.
go to album
