joyride // deathdrive

by Pete Jon

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1.
you want to go for a joyride? you want to go for a death drive? nothing on my mind-- put on the radio playing the songs we know and homilies of homicide and in the looking glass you can see the past through a fractal window it's been a long year it's been a long while since I've seen you smile you want to go for a death drive? you want to go for a joyride? you've got a heavy load you push it up a mile and it rolls back down the road french resistance-style said you're feeling an urgency? it's been a long while since we crossed that line put on the radio-- it'll play that song I know put down the window-- feel in the free air a plastic empire that won't decompose there's things too fucking vile to write into a slant rhyme unfolding all the time don't get me wrong-- I got a slice of the pie but I want the bakery, collectivized I want america ossified you can quote me to the jury I got nothing to hide I'm on a death drive it's a joyride (hell, we're all going to die)
2.
we rode out to desolation thought about making a home but you could feel the radiation leeching out from empty stone and in my lungs I feel the notion that your lungs are vital here in the deep breath of revolution the gathering before the storm and for the dead, and for their memory I keep the fire of my love stoked with rage and abandon there are some mysteries that they can never own you can write me off, an aberration but I am neither first nor last I float in the space of a constellation and this may be the only life I have we stayed up, a cool November trying to get some peace of mind listening to uncatena we felt the yearning in the polyrhythms I used to speak an incantation praying for peace in a troubled time but now the city peaks with a violent derision and I pry at the schism here and it's coming here and it's coming here and it's coming immanent here and it's coming here and it's coming here and it's coming crisis
3.
all my demons are for hire how does it feel? american made laying in wait for a life never came laying on pressure, laid off by the same play and get played in the short and the long game black motorcade barbara bush and thomas kincaid driving to hell on the road that they paved light falls beautiful on the shitshow that pocked us in utero my mother was grieving tell me, where all that grief go? my father was working in Elkhart at Jayco building temples on wheels to freedom and lemonade in the peak of the prison boom's sickly accelerate I said how does it feel to be a pock in a hellscape? I said how does it feel to be alive in america? why so many so lonely why so many sedated why so many held in homes, hospitals, wards, and cages so many born into the belly of a beast we create where on state stationary administrative segregation you're penning the bars on which freedom is predicated all my demons are for hire burn it all down we don't need this kitsch we don't need this clown we don't need this pig patrolling our hometown fuck all with the gaslit glow searchlight on a late night road fuck all with the uniformed jesus preaching, "you need us, you need us now give us our due and we'll be less abusive to you." fuck all now they're down at the school meet 'n' greetin the youth multifoliate hydra imbued in blue ensconced in white drenched in red I said burn it all down burn it all dead we don't need this sword hanging over our head and I don't need the law to tell me what's good I feel a fire within you fuck all if they quench what's been given you hell with the devil dressed up in the do-gooder's two shoes I hear a flicker of feeling a tremor of breathing wake up little child you are the vector of healing and all my demons are for hire tell me what's more lyrical than when I play the liar? until my dying day I will fight holy with stolen fire
4.
loving isn't easy with a body like these bundled up as they be with the past forged in the market of an anatomy brokered in the ruptures of history if we could be all-magical, omnipotent, untenable and arrive at the liminal predicament of america where all I see is blood loving is a highwire, fckin bird of a beast I don't know if I can fly there, fly free I don't know the geography where you border my sleep brokered in the ruptures of memory where we seem all-magical, omnipotent, untenable and arrive at the Nothing at the limit of america where all I see is a mark on your brow and I long for all the glory and the aching of impossibilities or the quietude at the limit of america where all I see is blood
5.
they came for you like vultures do they feast on death in a prison ward I hear your voice in all the noise and now I know that we are at war and I did my best to call you out of the mouth of the beast did what I could to claw you out from the jaw, from the teeth but there is no going back you're in the digestive tract convalescing in the devil's intestine
6.
sickly demon, what you want? tentacled and grotesque we thought it was an animal but it was a virus, or rhizomatous thought it had a human face thought it was a tyrant-- we cut the head off but we didn't pull the roots out it reformed, it reformed! read some books and learned to speak the language of humanity progress and the carrot and the stick posed in different faces whispered secret nothings to me I cut the head off but I didn't pull the roots out the song is coming on again but I don't know the meaning watch all I love go to shit been going there for a minute and you feel the dread come leeching in cut and run for cover-- you cut the head off as a token for your lover cut the head off but it's going to grow another
7.
a revolution is close at hand the sounds of violence, the turning sand the world is older, the world is bitter wasted on trauma, sick on ambien I make my money and I go home meanwhile, your demon is going at it pro bono meanwhile, your demon is in your brain feasting on trauma and quaffing shame I would not sanitize this shit I would not put some product on it: there is a war, it's burrowed into our bodies blossomed on our family tree hacked into our memory I fill my heart with satanic rage I would not bow to no kingly image I feast on rebellion, I stoke the flame with all the dying I will take to my grave
8.
over the canopy worlds out beyond our reach out beyond the borderline out beyond the hierarchy you catch a glimmer, there-- through the tears in a fabric wall you can feel a trembling in your heart of hearts you see it you see it you see it it cleaves and you see it you see it in this hegemony there is neither peace nor war only complicity only a violent metaphor say who you are to me! tell me what you're after! I can tell an enemy they don't know what they're fighting for because it's o'er the canopy and it's under our skin it is among us and within over the canopy worlds out beyond our reach out beyond the borderline out beyond the hierarchy
9.
krell 01:19
10.
you were born with a plastic brain got caught up in some passing parade took your lonely ass down to the river read from the scripture and drank of the water you were born with an ivy soul hungry for anywhere a root could take hold down in the street where a struggle unfurls you fell in love with a different world cawing and cawing, a crow in a cage how much cawing will awaken some rage? you begin to feel the limits of your longing here, with everything to steal and nothing worth saving you know there's work to be done but you're still looking for that buzz that will make it all okay or make it go away but when the booze leaves the body and the body's still there and the mind grows clear and the first light breaks in anger and fear and the distant horizon draws impossibly near and tickles your ear gather your dignity and mourn every moment of death and drudgery-- you were not made for it: you were not made for anything! least of all, this violent machine!

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wrought in grime
compressed to shit
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released May 24, 2019

everything by pete
mastered by landr and pete
art direction/design by bitch ranch

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Pete Jon Lansing, Michigan

Pete Jon is a singer-songwriter and collaborative producer in the DIY tradition.

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