Hide Your Fires

by Homunculust

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04:00
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02:10
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02:05
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03:45
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03:45
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about

Written and recorded in 2014. Lost and forgotten in 2015. Found and remembered in 2016.

credits

released November 2, 2016

Ryan Wilson - Lyrics, vocals, guitar, keys
Ben Schumacher - Drums, bass, trumpet, recording, mixing, mastering

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

Homunculust Portland, Oregon

Busted love.
Booty love.
Possible monsters.
Actual monsters.

contact / help

Contact Homunculust

Streaming and
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Track Name: Beet-Stained
"We're not old yet," she honeyed,
dipping my hand into a dish
of vinegar and citrus
and running a coarse line
of kosher salt down my tongue.
"We're not old yet," she honeyed
like when we were still young.

And then, the robe just falls.
Then, the robe just falls
as though it had hung on
nothing at all,

and she says, "Come here.
My body waits
beet-stained, beet-stained.
Come here.
My body waits, beet-stained,
to be stained by you."

But, after school,
she used to hang around nude
in her parents' garden,
taking pictures at angles
that obscured her problems,
so she was never quite sure
if this or that striation
was in her belly or her ass
or her imagination.

But, one time, she was too shy
(or she said she was too shy).
She asked me to come over
and take the pictures for her.
So, I did, while she squeezed her eyelids
shut and blush, blush, blushed,
saying, "Do you think these are too little?
And is this too much?"

And I said, "Let me become you.
I've got nice, blue eyes.
Wouldn't you like to have them, too?
Let me become you.
I've got nice, blue eyes,
already all over you."
Track Name: Treehouse
With hair that grew like leaves,
I should have seen the fall coming,
but I wanted to live up in you
at least another Spring,
so I sucked in my lips
and I let the fog roll in
until the air grew brisk
and I had to admit
that it was time to admit
that, though you cannot live alone,
you cannot live on your pretty face alone,
and, though I've tried,
neither can I.

So I walked across all the country's greatest places
in their dying days --
saw faces slide right off of mountains
and geysers evaporate --
and, when I reached the end of it,
I turned around and took it in
and realized that, without patience,
nothing ever did exist.

So I'll retrace my steps
until I'm dancing with your hips against
my aching hands,
which are sore for your kisses
and a knowing glance
that, this time, this time, maybe this time,
I might notice.
Track Name: Gun-Shy Medicine
I took so much medicine to see you tonight.
Gonna be a few days before my gut gets right,
but I don't mind if you stay the night.
And I'll try not to mind
if you only say you'll stay the night.

Ah-ooh
Ah-ooh.

But there's perfume between my fingers
all my scrubbing won't remove,
and the ways I once won your heart
are now just arguments I lose.
So, if I seem distracted while you're telling me about
all of the arms falling around you,
I've just no shits to give now,

even though you taught me to spot satellites
(you'd seen them from the sea
when you were circling the earth
to prepare, perhaps, to flee
when your faith collapses on itself --
the light of love gone out
and the mouth of God sewn silent
like your beauty shut my mouth).

Ah-ooh.
Ah-ooh.

Well, here she is in white sheets. Cold.
A buckled willow branch.
We carry her to teach absence
to creatures of the ranch.
And there she is, a ring of candlelight around her head.
And there she was, a speck of dust
that barely filled the bed.

And we think of her not ever if we want to go to sleep,
or we say that we don't think of her,
but we know what we mean.
We think of her not ever if we want to go to sleep,
or we say that we don't think of her,
but we know what we mean.
And we think of her not ever if we want to go to sleep,
or we say we don't think of her,
but we know what we mean.
And we think of her not ever if we want to go to sleep,
but I need more than shut-eye to survive these memories.

Ah-ooh.
Ah-ooh.
Track Name: Irish Exits
If you bury me here, no more flowers will grow,
no more antelope play, no more buffalo roam.
Yeah, you're the salt of the earth.
I'm the salted topsoil.
You're bloomy bucheron.
I'm just milk that has spoiled.

But I'll be at all tomorrow's parties,
and, if you're unlucky, tonight's dreams.
I'm sorry you're seeing me
so soon after you said
you never wanted to be seen with me,
but you never seemed to see
my Irish exits from the scene.

When our lips first twisted together and you screamed,
you were right to react strongly;
I am unclean.
So, please bury me here,
and then burn down this field,
and then kneel down in this hole
and clutch the cold coffin you've sealed.

But I'll be at all tomorrow's parties,
and, if you're unlucky, tonight's dreams.
I'm sorry you're seeing me
so soon after you said
you never wanted to be seen with me,
but you never seemed to see
my Irish exits from the scene,
and disappearances denied
become destructive lingering.
Track Name: Moonlife Night
What am I but soft to you --
the darkness that you're swimming through,
where lay in wait brined fingers of the damned --
or smoke that blows along a long lost land?

Am I not the moonlight knife,
freak-dancing in the moonlife night,
carved from sparks and hard as I am light,
whose subtlety discourages those who seek to describe
the way I interact with those
who lack the social graces
I'm completely and openly absent of,
but who do know
the shapes so briefly taken by my love?

Breathe in and learn to live without
the now-deep damage of the doubt
awoken in you by the way I sleep:
hissing holy kisses
to the women in my dreams.
Track Name: Burn Bed
I saw the bedroom --
I even saw the bed --
that you were burned in.

I stood in the living room
you and your brother were wheeled into
to exchange skin.

You must have screamed.
They must have given you
the first taste
of the whiskey you now cling to
as your blisters were removed,
your brother grafted to you
as he died,
flesh and blood now
inside and outside.

And, off the in the wild and violent, violet sky,
I could hear the Devil bowling.
All along the strobing, hot wax miles,
funnel clouds touched down,
and I was scared of them then.
I am scared of them now.

And in the wheat behind your house,
I walked up to my waist,
and all the ticks were disappointed
by my uncirculating legs.

I sat in an old school bus
and I tried to pull them out,
but only back-halves were released,
and I was left with preta mouths.

And as they chewed the meat of me,
I could hear them sing,
"You say you saw him suffer?
You should have seen him burning."

And as they chewed the meat of me,
I could hear them sing,
"You say you saw him suffer?
You should have smelled him burning."

And, off the in the wild and violent, violet sky,
I could hear the Devil bowling.
All along the strobing, hot wax miles,
funnel clouds touched down,
and I was scared of them then.
I am scared of them now,
scared of them now,
scared of them now,
scared of them now.
Track Name: Leave a Lover
You can ask me if I think he's being mean to you at parties,
or if she just wants to take up hiking
because she hates your pork-pastry body.

I know there are close calls,
there are phone calls in the middle of the night
asking you if you're still taken,
and you cannot answer right.

There's the person you wake up with.
There's the person you think of.
I'm just the person who will listen
if you need to talk yourself out of love.

'Cause little things like this add up, I know.
I'm not too good at math,
but I've been beneath that same load
and, if you let it grow,
one day it's going to break your back in half.

So I will always tell a friend to leave a lover.
I will always tell a friend to leave a lover.
I will always tell a friend to leave a lover.
Always tell a friend to leave a lover.

Do I think sometimes he talks too much,
or that she doesn't listen
when he's telling her he's had another inspired vision?
Well, I think they're both at fault.
And I think everybody is.
And there's no reason to hang on once we have all accepted this.

So, if you see something newer,
something greener in another pasture,
why stay mired in the same manure?
Move toward that fence faster.
Knock it down or run around it or jump over.

I will always tell a friend to leave a lover.
I will always tell a friend to leave a lover.

I know you love putting up emotional walls,
but just use the door.
Some fights are not worth loving for,
and the only thing commitment's good for
is to keep getting fucked while you get fucked over.

I will always tell a friend to leave a lover.
I will always tell a friend to leave a lover.

Dear friend, if you are hearing this,
who still can't seem to quit,
know, at least, you're not the only one
who hears their name
when I'm singing it.

Leave your lover.
Leave your lover.
Leave your lover.
Leave your lover.
Leave your lover.
Leave your lover.
Leave your lover.
Leave your lover.
Track Name: Your Mother, My Father
You are not your mother's many tantrums.
I am not, and I hope I don't become, my father's heart.
There's a million bad ways this could end
or is already ending,
and I wish I could say
there are still some good ways it could start,
but we're already past that part.

I'll meet you at midnight in the parking lot of a pastel motel.
Ten hours of driving to see you,
and all you can say is, "You look like hell."
Well, what are these journeys for, what are these visits about
if you only wait to see me to see if I'll turn around
before I even hit the ground?

Well, do all the yoga you want to --
you'll never spread as far as your mother's legs.
And, try as I might, when I write, I can't quite get inside
my father's brain.
There's a million bad ways this could end
or is already ending,
and I wish I could say
there are still some good ways it could start,
but we're already past that part.

We went to the ocean, one winter, and I nearly froze,
till your hair blew around me and squeezed --
a cocoon, or a host.
And, when I emerged, well, you burst into blizzards of light
that I tried to realign, but I lost to the strength of the night
and to my shortness of sight.

Well, I still carry anger.
It's there in the base of my spine,
but I don't let it go to my throat;
if I unravel, I may never rewind.
And I'm sorry you exploded
and I stood dumb until you were gone.
and I'm sorry my fists just grip pens
that insist on writing songs
instead of righting any wrongs.

There's a million bad ways this could end
or is already ending.
I wish I could say
there are still some good ways it could start,
but we're so, so, so far past that part.
Track Name: Lowercase
It's okay that you don't talk to me
unless you need something.
I'm happy to help,
in so far as I'm happy.

It's okay that you don't think of me
unless you're bored.
I'd be bored, too, if I was you,
with only me to talk to,
lord, lord.

But I like to write your name
in all lowercase
so there's no angle to break,
no steeple shape to remind me to pray.

And you love to read out loud
your enumerated pains.
You love to shift your weight
from your sore to broken leg.

But sheath your sword, holster your gun.
I thought we built this fort for fun.
My mouth was made for words, not war.
My body, it will fight no more.

But I have been drinking Moroccan mint tea
in a dark corner, waiting for you to join me.
It's burning my tongue and it's twisting my lip.
I need you as sure as I'm allergic to mint.

But, if I could make myself small,
I'd colonize between your walls,
build a bug nest in your bed,
and eat the dusty skin you shed.

But it's okay that you don't talk to me
unless you need something.
I'm happy to help,
in so far as I'm happy.

And it's okay that you don't think of me
unless you're bored.
I'd be bored, too, if I was you,
with only me to talk to,
lord, lord, lord, lord, lord.

But I have been drinking Moroccan mint tea
in a dark corner, waiting for you to join me.
It's burning my tongue and it's twisting my lip.
I need you as sure as I'm allergic to mint.
Track Name: Elby at the End of the World
If you ever stop barking,
I might stop thinking you're a dog.
I know the night is cold and dark,
but, hey, at least it's long.
I know you thought I was a trap
that you could set,
but it's so easy
to step in what you did forget.

So we will wheel our shopping carts on down the road,
until we find a place to sleep
where we are not so slapped by snow.
And maybe you will lose me in the snowblind --
you will sleep alone --
but isn't that better
than together in this home?

I remember standing on the beach with Elby
when she told me she was wearing special panties,
and I didn't understand,
'cause I was still such a boy.
And she said she needed such-and-such a man.

But, we could both smell the dying
of a hundred sea lions
as they bloated -- some popped open -- in the sand.

And we prayed for rain or for waves
to wash the stench of their decay --
and of our prayers --
away.

Black sand, black sea, black sky on fire,
black panties thin, a hand slipped in,
pink skin, and then
red blood red blood red blood red blood,
black sand, black sea, black sky on fire,
black panties thin, a hand slipped in,
pink skin, and then
red blood red blood red blood red blood red blood
red blood red blood red blood red blood red
blood red blood.

Elby, you said the world's ending,
but, in your heart, you believed something darker.
You said the world's ending,
but in your heart, only in your heart.
Elby, you said the world's ending,
but, in your heart, you believed something darker.
Elby, you said the world's ending,
but in your heart, only in your heart.
Elby, you said the world's ending,
but, in your heart, you believed something darker.
Elby, you said the world's ending,
but in your heart, only in your heart.
Elby, you said the world's ending,
but, in your heart, you believed something darker.
Elby, you said the world's ending,
but in your heart, only in your heart.

And you said, "Change is something you give to someone
who begs you for it
when you're weak,
and you're weak,
and you know it."