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through haze
come those godawful pop tones
let it be my motorcycle death song.
glory be
my motorcycle death tone
glory be
my motorcycle death song
from each last stump
let smoke-ghosts seep
creep phantom feet
through rockland grease
kiss me from the sleepless deep
punch out the code
beep beep beep
beep beep beep
my motorcycle death song
glory be
my motorcycle death song
leader of packs
oozing through pitch
cleave to me
my trophy bitch
ride this last boner, for
a flick of the switch
clear.
...twitch.
"look out. look out. look out!"
we're flat-out, post-trauma
"look out. look out. look out"
girls chorus through coma
beyond
flat-lines and white lines
to the bridge
to the coda.
"look out. look out. look out"
the motor city deadhouse.
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I’m Zach
but I’m back.
Do you wanna touch my scuffed corduroy?
Do you wanna read my bible of highways?
Do you wanna touch me?
Do you wanna feel my healing powers?
Do you wanna give me hallelujah?
Be with me in my revival hour?
rev laz.
so, throw away your right crutch
throw away your left
open up your eyes, wretch
give me everything that’s left
do you wanna touch?
do you wanna touch me there?
hallelujah
hallelujah
hallelujah
hallelujah
to god’s ass crack…
to a sun turned black
as the locusts swarm
as the oceans boil
as the planets fall
…4 bikers roar.
rev, rev, rev lazarus
rev, rev, rev lazarus.
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tuning in
to those godawful poptones
let it be
my motorcycledeathsong
glory be
motorcycledeathsong
let it be
the bones of mom
under the seat
with your skull beneath my feet
hush, my darkling, hush for me
the milk turns blue
+ sickly sweet
hush
all i could do was push
crushed
mother, the blood
across the slick asphalt
frame by frame
blue flutter blue
as the sirens wail
for the wailing sire
glory be.
this then
your
motorcycledeathsong
kiss me deep
let it be.
your blue, blue milk
from mother’s teat
god lives
his blaze in colour
god lives
in yellow tape
in motorcycledeathsongs
god lives
in garbled CB static
god lives
in bare-bulb attics
god lives
in his mangled chrome
god lives
in home sweet home
and in
the blue blue milk
god lives
in the red macadam
in the squished grey matter
god lives
in Lazarus dreams
and in the blue, blue milk.
Glory be.
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i take the foreground
but I don’t make a sound
put on the gloves
and hose the dashboard down
i fade into the background
i try to make a sound
i try to feel the love
love
in the summer of hate
love
in the summer of hate
LOVE.
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crossing the tracks
there’s no going back
sat on the floor
by the kitchen door
one sad little boy
playing with his toys
this ain’t a game
he’s only just in the frame
the kid loves ketchup
and he gnaws on his rusk
as he switches the heads
on barbie and ken
and he don’t wanna talk
down no tincans on string
to imaginary friends
the kid loves ketchup
he got his tonka truck
he don’t give a fuck
comes down smashing the cars
"wipe that gunk off your lips
go give your mommy a kiss
give back her clothes".
the kid loves ketchup.
in his box makes a cab
but there’s blood on the dash
looks like ketchup
blood running in runnels
as he enters the tunnel
yeah, looks like ketchup
roadkill under the stars
venus + mars
but there's nothing in his eyes
looks like ketchup.
tonka takes dinky
as he sucks on his pinky
looks likes ketchup.
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71. |
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72. |
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idling on the shoulder, friend
just to have you back again
i take you on the slick macadam
yet i don’t know you from adam
we play our silly games
but i’m not always the one to blame
give me back something i could never have
love me
jackass
don’t make me feel bad
he loves me, and
he loves me not
my stomach twists itself in knots
when we're finished i feel hollow
i pretend to leave
but in the truck
i follow.
i wallow
i crawl
from my beautiful stranger
we’re the red set
we’re the red set
what’s your name, sir?
are you from these parts?
are you prepared
to steal my heart?
beneath the shattered arcs
transfixed in bunny beams
and frozen scenes
dogging spots
for old has-beens
idling, on the shoulder, yet
crawling,
kerbcrawling
full blood for the half-breed
to the darkest parts.
we’re the red set
we’re the red set
or we’re dead set
on being the next
red set.
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79. |
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80. |
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The Complete Motorcycledeathsongbook (50+ Shades of Chrome) and Fagtrucker Detours in one unstoppable juggernaut of a release. More than 80 songs from our favourite artists. Exclusive to BBR in this form.
EXTRAS: Fauxlaroids, Blood-spattered Lyrics.
Please note: some of the narrative interpretations of these works are included on the Porno Karaoke compilation (the cross-fertilisation starts here).
released July 4, 2020
