The lyrics are all mine. The image was generated using Leonardo.ai. The voice and music were generated using Suno.com. Here are the original posts, from 2019: https://www.facebook.com/share/p/19dM2eSNvV/ #LeonardoAI #Suno #Travel #Obsession #Rap #Lyrics #AlbumDrop #LGBTQI GENERATION II I paused for thought for poetry, and paused more and became Gollum, in longing for a ring that never comes, 'coz I know I've been forgotten/ Every line of mine is a crisis hotline. Every word is one to start playing, but I'm longing for a female rubber-band before my blood gets on my lap/ But my life's so easy/ I'll grant you that, sure/ I'm living in a lucky country/ Poverty doesn't confront me, and I travel well like chocolate in a cockpit; for a pilot needing a sugar-fix/ I've got money, drugs, and lifelines/ One, gratitude, is profound, right?; like the pursuit of happiness; a profound right/ But that's nothing without women in my life/ Is there interest? Are there shares? My price only takes nosedives/ They just stare at their make-up/ That was made to keep them down, But these lines are called a 'put-down'/ They don't know the half of 'down', like they're at full-mast; only looking at the flagship guys/ They're the only ones they ever flag, but this is nationally sad enough to mourn/ Yeah, they're now all up. Men too. Don't get me started on guys/ They're always caught up in their dicks, like they're rides/ Why would you even wanna show that off?/ The show's not dope, bro. Just rope it off!/ Women want mental shots of emotion to get off/ Feminine is better than not, so long as some foundation's for the brain and not the face/ I'm pro-choice, but if you choose to waste wages in painting your face daily, you look like assorted babies/ I get government money/ Yeah, they grant me that, but since I've already done my research, I haven't got their back/ I take all of their cash, then use it in rapping against oppression and whatever shit the leaders done gone and did/ They're stopping all the refugees from coming here to live, but should stop this/ They're plenty of fish, coz all the Aussie chicks are taken or bogans with no global wit/ Australia's moat needs a dam-bridge/ I got the home-field advantage when chicks need a friend, to be a content tourist, or their friend to be a therapist/ I'll break a leg, coz it's heavy/ There's some fall, so winter's ahead/ It's lead, but I hope I'll lighten up; break a leg to play a lead/ If you're on my line, please keep listening, and don't let me go by saying 'hold' and then running away/ My show's my state/ I'll break not just my legs, but arms and chest, because I give my brain so much weight/ I don't want pay, just my face in papers so much that they'll turn to pulp, then turn this shit into hard facts with a rectal passage to a toilet's seat of a parliament/ If words are weapons, y'all are too fond of disarmament/ If you hate your job, get fired. That's firepower to start a new life to your extent/ I come out on top, like I'm all balls and a header's on the cards/ Wait a minute/ I thought I could be normal for a second, but I'm waiting for a minute, coz these times are hard/ I push and press for plugs time and time again, but just end up getting trapped in depths I done dug/ My climb's up/ I'm down/ ****** - The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001) [Golem]

The lyrics are all mine. The image was generated using Leonardo.ai. The voice and music were generated using Suno.com. Here are the original posts, from 2019: https://www.facebook.com/share/p/19dM2eSNvV/ #LeonardoAI #Suno #Travel #Obsession #Rap #Lyrics #AlbumDrop #LGBTQI GENERATION I I'm well versed in being fervently cursed now/ All words of my work come before me, with each round, like genes, and not mine, which she thinks are better and perfect now/ My newest generation of imagination is the only way she will ever equate me with fascination/ There's not a ball in her court, but a court in her house/ I have no chance. I was born a louse/ So, I guess my words and my worth are the same; sworn in now/ I have a lot of poor lines that I was born to say, in having a lot of sour roles, which I was born to play, as a lonely fuckin' outcast in the outer lane, drifting into outer space in pursuit of a date as she lifts me up, like Everest, then tells me there's no oxygen, but gives me helium instead, to get me out of her open pen, like I'm tears for ink she can't use in a broken pen/ I guess I'm on the house and free; merely complimentary/ I'm only a sidenote; being granted a subprime loan of her affection and no hope/ I lean toward her a touch/ She believes I'm patting her and apprehension becomes a backpack between us on a seat on a bus/ I've gotta get a grip, like apprehension means that; grab myself and toss it out. She will never need that/ I am just some White trash; not even a trash bag/ And not even undergoing plastic surgery would be giving me a hand/ I don't want the upper hand. I just wanna feel loved/ But I write this up, like it's an uppercut of lines that if she finds will fuck me up, when she spells it out in no uncertain terms that what I write is right, and I simply said it better than she ever could that 'I'm not her type'/ Every time I slip up, I whip up a line/ Given time, I'll find it's so fine it slides into minds; comes to mine; mind, but can I ever write a line to ride a line into her mind?/ Such parking spots cost a lifetime of tries, and I know I'm crossing lines thinking only about some drive/ I rise sans shine, but I see stars in daylight that might just be my crossed fingers and fairies of prayers before my eyes, 'coz only being lucky everywhere would make me someone she could bear to follow; like/ If only I were Irish, like I wish, luck would not be quite as hard to swallow, right?/ But I'm more a leper than a leprechaun and green with only envy, in envying every ordinary man in her life/ Tense turns imperfect from perfect/ I had finished, then was finishing, worrying when I was with her, but now wonder if she was ever seeing me/ I wish I had an eye for that but I'm just caught inside a storm's, frequently/ The wind is her messages; takes me by storm, but I wait for more and never catch 'em, since hers were never meant for me at all/ I'm feeling weak; certainly with no words for describing this being provided to me/ They're for thousands of her friends, and I'm just knocking on a door; knocking on wood to make a point, but now with nails moving through my pores/ I wouldn't pause in pouring out my heart to her; calling her, but I wasn't born a Hindu, so I know my rich blood's poor/

The lyrics are all mine. The image was generated using Leonardo.ai. The voice and music were generated using Suno.com. Here are the original posts, from 2019: https://www.facebook.com/share/p/19dM2eSNvV/ #LeonardoAI #Suno #Travel #Obsession #Rap #Lyrics #AlbumDrop #LGBTQI SUPRIYA Most people have partners but, for my part, there's just art, so don't fuckin' get me started but I am already; part of me's just damn confetti when she's absent, meaning all I feel I'm ever set to be is far less than even a full third-wheel mentally; just colors over the heads of those wedded to weddings if they read this at a wedding while I crash and burn in the setting, with my blues so deafening I'm getting into a state of depression; unfriended and discarded trash shoved into a bin, with a sense of hardened oppression, 'til I'm compact like my lines if I write: 'I need better unpaid attention!'/ I don't even get a mention in her thoughts/ Every second when she doesn't text, I'm over my cell like a fish out of water on it, like it's too comprehensive; more than a bit/ Her presence is more than a hit/ Her breath more than I can ever spit/ Her touch more than my wit, in how uplifting it is/ I sit waiting for our combined fate to call my name but if I'm to blame for inactive states it's because by vocal brain comes with a side of sustained silence, and since I've been abandoned before the only move I make first is to abandon her helping foot by any open door, in using feet of distance instead as lines for these feats of forming mental building blocks of tortured scorn with lyrics/ My mental state means it's mandatory that a pen to the pad, unplanned, should slam into my hand for a story/ I'm pushing it with feet, but a pedal to the metal leaves me just inches from the edge of my seat/ Why didn't I just see a movie instead of speaking incessantly?/ Why was I saving money but not saving integrity, coz I honestly don't care about a penny/ My mind's a penitentiary fit for change, it seems/ I'm beggin' any goddess to invest attention in me, and intentionally/ My heart is like a pension; spent every week/ I'm gonna grow old from this tension, like Dawson's Creek, until I long to be out of bed again just to at least be weak at the knees/ This is a line that I'll write to skip; to cross lines when I find something wiser to spit/ That might be this/ I might be hit; met with a bow from a Nepalese cupid, with his arrow's passage sending me to the moon on a two-way trip; to see the world, before set-telling on Everest's summit, with the one who caught my eyes, like no one ever did/ I'm held in place by her ever presence, and wishing she'd be ever present/ She's heavenly and heaven-sent, with heaven's scent and the situation's gravity makes mountains tip 'til what's on the tip of my tongue spills into these lyrics/ Just being in an ordinary couple on the ground is bliss/ Call that a couple of lines; just graffiti on my heart; on my sleeve, like a wrist, when the beat's quick/ I'm hypertensive/ I'm yearning for the deep end to only lonely stints on me; on this; on wit/ Humanity should come before profit/ But profanity is all I can spit, and knowing this, I swear I want you too to do this/ ****** - Dawson's Creek (1998-2003)