I was using the tools under "The Muse" section of the February Album Writing Month site at fawm dot-org.
When I called up a "plot spline," it suggested: “Write a song in first person ("i/we") in which the main character is thinking out loud. the story takes place in the future, and the scene is a moving vehicle."
When I asked for a "struxxure," it gave me “intro-chorus-verse-chorus-verse-bridge-verse-chorus"
When I asked for a "lyricloud," I got these words: “amber chestnut chevy clinton coffee connor descent eddie fever god grave green haired hands hazel indian nut original path root stare sweet tents tree walking worry”
Out of the words generated by its "titular" title generator, I liked the words “don’t ask” best out of "don't ask,” "gonna tells a virgin delight,” "this nature majesty,” "loaded shady,” "broom off,” "light slept supernatural,” "for living,” "next clarity of flies,” "hills off,” "i'm not triple,” "jump & doomsday,” "just like carousel,” "starting pissing,” "all the lantern,” "butcher im,” "lookin' another beat,” "i sailor tryin' with you,” "medley makin' propaganda,” "munchhausen trade” and "the mysterious debt of avalanche” "my highest waste” "correct me” "mine book for fruit” "kneeling for you” and "the wit of the gotta” although I mean, c’mon, “jump & doomsday”? “loaded shady”? “medley making propaganda”? “munchhausen trade”? “kneeling for you”? Each are kinda mint.
lyrics
Good things were good until they slowly slid out of view
Bad things just kept going but that ain’t been nothin’ new
We know we said we'd keep going but keeping going’s a difficult task
Why not wipe the sweat from our brow? Why not just consider stopping now? Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask
It’s a grave situation if we stand, day follows day on this godforsaken land
We gasp and groan to get a win, we avert our eyes, kill conscience as we sin
As fever rose, we filled a green Chevy and found a path to leave
Our progress cured our worry and our footfalls fed our belief
Sometimes coffee in our hands felt sweet and hot
Sometimes their stares at our descent in life was not
Now our skin turns amber, hazel, chestnut under these skies
Long haired and bearded, so weary of walking we drop like flies
I’m a singer-songwriter using guitars and keyboards to craft distinctive dispatches from intimate interiors, vast exteriors
and all points in between. Drawing on years of pop, soul, indie, folk and dance-music fandom, I try to turn observations and narratives into succinct sonic snapshots....more
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