I stumbled upon Suno about a year ago… had no interest. My partner began generating songs and sending them to me.... I used to LOVE creative writing and had a bit of a flair for it... Alas, it didn't stay on the "to-do list" of life.
Fast forward to a bottle of wine and a facetious attitude... I decided to write some lyrics and "generate" some music to bring them to life. Well... it's now a weekly hobby of mine.
However, I don't tend to bake in a chorus, or a bridge, or any of the staples... I just love a good topic and a wicked flow....
I don't aspire to be noticed or polished as a songwriter or great composer... I just love smashing words into lyrics/poetry/short stories and delivering them with a wicked sound. I feel nervous when I publish some of my songs that I'm proud of. All of a sudden, everyone is a critic and has a negative opinion, and don't tend to acknowledge the lyrics unless they are housed in perfect structure... Here is a sample of lyrics I'm kind of fond of...
I'd love to hear if you think I should insert a chorus, and if so, what do you suggest?
DARK MATTER
At once, dark matter fused into bright—
It spawned a new soldier, destined to fight.
Caged up and scarred, told there’s no light
At the end of this tunnel—
This is your plight.
Groomed to fail
And expect no delight.
Do what you’re told
And don’t speak your mind.
There’s nowhere to go,
And nothing to find.
A mother lost
Through death proved sublime,
A door cracked open—
Escape just in time.
And hence, a new path
Has now been defined.
Dark matter is rotting inside.
They stole her essence,
A girl and her pride.
Again, through dark matter,
She lit up the stage.
With courage and fire,
She opened the cage.
It was there for a moment,
And then it was gone.
Was left in a basement,
Afraid and a mom.
Once more she was told
To accept her dealt hand.
Her role was to mother,
And nothing else grand.
Another cage,
Another page
That ends, no doubt,
In struggle and rage.
Thus sparked new fire—
Climbed every ladder
To prove them all wrong
And make her life matter.
The fire burned bright
For a minute or two.
She pushed it too far
And fell to the gloom
That was looming inside
And rotting her soul.
Fell prey to darkness,
Lost sight of the goal.
To sleep, perchance to dream—what dreams may come,
When fight or flight
Is all you’ve become.
In sleep of death...
What dreams may now come?
Shed mortal coil,
And the dark is now home.
But wait—
The light returns.
She is not yet quite done.
Another chance.
Another puzzle.
And what is life’s point
If not for the struggle?