by Pizza Cult

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    Six songs constitute Pizza Cult's first EP, "Sonder". Recorded budgetless and relatively lo-fi in my bedroom in Athens, GA.

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Six songs constitute Pizza Cult's first EP, "Sonder". Recorded budgetless and relatively lo-fi in my bedroom in Athens, GA.


released December 1, 2013

Written, recorded, and produced by Charles Ten Eick



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Pizza Cult Athens, Georgia

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Track Name: Secret Family.
I'm the type of guy to have a secret family and still find time to be by myself. I know it's my fault but I'm not worried, I'll smoke all afternoon 'til my eyes get blurry. And I'll laugh because the joke's on me, as the weed lulls me to sleep.

I am only dreaming of you with your long blonde hair and how you really don't care what your friends think of you anymore and how punk that is.

So I'll do blow and go to that orgy and bore myself to death and fall asleep to your old favourite movie. I'll sing of sweet salvation, of ditching my belongings and turning tail and heading to another nation. There's no hope, yet I'm hoping the next match I light to night will start a fire and burn my entire being up, or spark my burning out. I don't know what to do about you. I never had another plan other than to get close to you.
Track Name: Pluto.
So you're mad because your deadbeat dad is a cold and distant man. Let's call him Pluto, god of the underworld, more of a planet than a parent. Well you're the son he never had.

Now your'e mad your boyfriend is far to glad to be faithful. He's the man you deserve but more like the church they dragged you to every Sunday. Sure he loves you with every strand of fiber in his cereal bowl, but the boy is a needle and you crave the steeple almost every night.

The men in your life are a lot more like animals these days. So you're losing balance and losing sleep and every other constant you keep. So you lengthen your hair and strengthen your bones and your once beating heart, it has turned into stone. And I'm fed because your legs are spread. I am hanging on every last word you've said. This bed is therapy and you're coming clean to me, leaving every inch of the bedsheets dirty.
Track Name: Cosmonaut.
I've grown tired of the internet, I've grown tired this year. So I wrote a love letter to my crooked ideals. It read "Oh, how I've missed you these past ten thousand years". It spoke of life in the afterbirth within the radius of drone strikes. It spoke of love after death all caught on video surveillance. It said, "I am sending this message from somewhere in space"

I want to be part of your family. I want to forget my last name, all this anger it's brought me, all this unending shame. I am beginning to suspect who is to blame.

I need some validation and I need human contact. I'm not some great explorer. I need to turn back.
Track Name: Songs from the Black Hole.
What is blue in your veins is making me red in the face, is what keeps your family together. It's what tore mine apart. It's what is pumping ceaselessly through my murmuring heart.

There is salt in the fish tank, tears in the ocean. You are sobbing in the shower. You don't want anyone to hear your pain but the drain and the pipes in your lungs don't get worked out enough, I want you to sing louder now than you've ever been allowed to before.

So she sang, "La-di-da, why does life always hurt like this?" She sang "Na-na-na, when do I get to catch a break from this?"

So she sang songs from the black hole. My head, my soul, trying to leave this heavenly body before I lose control.

When I was ten I used to pretend that I was an astronaut, hanging weightless over my backyard. And now that I have turned nineteen, I only dream of leaving earth. My friends want jobs and all I want is to live a thousand years and never do the same thing twice. I am no longer afraid of myself and what I want from this.

I want to sing songs from the black hole. My head, my soul, trying to leave this heavenly body before I lose control.
Track Name: Biography.
My oldest memories: a big yellow room and I'm hungry. I ate every bug on the window sill. I still haven't ever gotten my fill. And if you took a picture everything would seem perfect, but you took a video so you can watch all of our fuck-ups in slow motion. Dad said I was a bad seed, how stunted I would grow. Here I stand six foot three, and look ma watch me go.

Write my biography, entitled "Horribly Sad & Awfully Funny". Will you read it out loud to me, so I can see myself as more than a story and you will understand why I keep this calm facade of martian sand to hide from the fire and flames of reentry of my stellar dreams to the badlands of reality.

When I die, when I'm dead, don't you leave me in the morgue. Drag my corpse out to the shore so all this water I've tread in this life I've lead can return to the wake once more and whenever you step in the ocean, we will be as close as ever before.
Track Name: What Sonder Means.
I watched her every night get fucked on the glow of my laptop screen. I watched her eyes grow bright green. In another life she sang the blues. Can't you feel her sadness washing over you? Sure she does porn now, but she was once a part of a family. They put her on the street so she can't say no to the money. She took the first job she saw.

The Hand, The Blow, a Mouth to Feed. Of God, Of Coke, her own in the city.

She said she felt small enough to crawl inside a seashell, and if they'd only listen then they wouldn't have to leave. But all the kings horses and all the kings men couldn't mend her up for me. I watch them enter and exit repeatedly.

And oh how I prayed, that one day things would finally change. Our future generations lost at sea would remember me and how I saved us.

You said you wanted a status check on me. I still don't talk to my family. And no, nothing comes easy, not since I turned fourteen. I am long and drawn out. I know you know what I mean and darling if you don't, in time you shall see. You are the beginning and the end and the thoughts in between.

I said I felt small enough to feel my place in this machine. How insignificant I felt amidst the hum of the beast. Each holy day's feast that they tried to force feed, it just didn't taste any good to me.

But mother Mary came for me, turned on by her sacred virginity. She whispered softly and sweet let it bleed, let it bleed for me.

These songs that I write to try and convince myself to sleep are as real to me now as the people that I meet, and I guess that to me is what "sonder" means.