Lyrics and arrangement by Terry Trueman

Trueman Music | Join me on Suno https://suno.com/@captivatingminimalism0623

Terry Trueman - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@TerryTrueman-w6e

Vincent Triola - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@vincentvtriola

*Terry Trueman has created this with AI assistance.

The contrast between Terry Trueman’s recent musical work on his YouTube channel https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCAEPJ40txNQtzRQqThXXB-A and his earlier literary output reveals an artist extending long‑standing preoccupations into a new expressive register. The continuity is unmistakable, yet the shift in medium produces a genuine transformation in tone, vulnerability, and artistic stance.

In his earlier work—poetry marked by compressed emotional force, fiction built around interiority under pressure, and newsletter essays blending cultural critique with philosophical reflection—Trueman’s voice has always been the central instrument. The poems tended toward inwardness, circling memory, loss, and the fragile dignity of ordinary experience. The novels widened that introspection into character, especially the psychological textures of adolescence and constraint. The Trueman–Triola newsletter added a public dimension: a reflective, sometimes wry, sometimes indignant civic voice interrogating culture, media, and the ethics of attention.

The songs, all written and arranged by Trueman, carry that same sensibility but redirect it into performance. What stands out first is the range—folk confessionals, blues‑inflected laments, playful genre experiments, even pieces that brush against cabaret or spoken‑word cadence. This stylistic breadth does not feel like eclecticism for its own sake; it feels like an artist granting himself permission to inhabit every emotional register without the structural constraints of prose. Where the poems often held their cards close, the songs place feeling at the forefront. Where the newsletter essays dissect cultural illusions, the songs let the emotional residue of those illusions speak for itself. And where the fiction relies on narrative architecture, the songs rely on immediacy—melody as a direct conduit to truth.

There is also a notable shift in vulnerability. The newsletter persona can be sharp, analytical, even distanced. The songs, by contrast, expose the nerve endings. Even when the lyrics are playful, the delivery carries a tenderness and lived‑in candor that prose rarely permits. The arrangements—unpretentious, intimate, unmistakably handmade—reinforce that sense of directness. They sound like work created for the sake of expression rather than career, legacy, or literary positioning.

Yet the ethical imagination that animates Trueman’s nonfiction persists in the musical work. The songs bear witness: to aging, desire, regret, American mythmaking, and the stubborn persistence of hope. They do not argue; they reveal. They do not preach; they observe. In this way, the YouTube channel extends the Trueman–Triola project into another medium, offering a new avenue for exploring how a human being stays honest in a world built on spectacle and illusion.

Taken together, the songs feel less like a departure and more like a late‑style culmination. The poet has learned melody. The novelist has learned brevity. The essayist has learned to sing his reflections rather than frame them in argument. What emerges is a body of musical work that feels both freshly made and deeply rooted—an artist returning to his earliest impulses with decades of craft behind him, speaking now in every register available.

*Terry Trueman has created this writing with AI assistance, and its content is not published or produced by Vincent V Triola whose brilliant memes, etc can be found on—

Lyrics and arrangement by Terry Trueman

Trueman Music | Join me on Suno https://suno.com/@captivatingminimalism0623

Terry Trueman - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@TerryTrueman-w6e

Vincent Triola - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@vincentvtriola

*Terry Trueman has created this with AI assistance.

Lyrics and arrangement by Terry Trueman

Trueman Music | Join me on Suno https://suno.com/@captivatingminimalism0623

Terry Trueman - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@TerryTrueman-w6e

Vincent Triola - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@vincentvtriola

*Terry Trueman has created this with AI assistance.

Lyrics and arrangement by Terry Trueman

Trueman Music | Join me on Suno https://suno.com/@captivatingminimalism0623

Terry Trueman - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@TerryTrueman-w6e

Vincent Triola - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@vincentvtriola

*Terry Trueman has created this with AI assistance.

Lyrics and arrangement by Terry Trueman

Trueman Music | Join me on Suno https://suno.com/@captivatingminimalism0623

Terry Trueman - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@TerryTrueman-w6e

Vincent Triola - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@vincentvtriola

*Terry Trueman has created this with AI assistance.

Something I hope you’ll enjoy as much as I do! 😘👍

Play these two songs back-to-back- same lyrics used in VERY different arrangements:

Melody matters, but so do words in delivery and intentions.

Something Truly Grand https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QbwV9IVYrmM

Sweet Little Baby Coo’s (companion to Something Truly Grand) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNohoujzReU

YouTube video by Terry Trueman www.youtube.com

Terry Trueman - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@TerryTrueman-w6e

Lyrics and arrangement by Terry Trueman

Trueman Music | Join me on Suno https://suno.com/@captivatingminimalism0623

Terry Trueman - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@TerryTrueman-w6e

Vincent Triola - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@vincentvtriola

*Terry Trueman has created this with AI assistance.

Lyrics and arrangement by Terry Trueman

Trueman Music | Join me on Suno https://suno.com/@captivatingminimalism0623

Terry Trueman - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@TerryTrueman-w6e

Vincent Triola - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@vincentvtriola

*Terry Trueman has created this with AI assistance.

Bill Maher’s Case Against Bluesky — Why It Falters, and Why the Cruelty Matters

There’s a particular melancholy in watching a once‑nimble cultural critic become convinced that the world has betrayed him. Bill Maher now speaks as though he’s the last sane man in a madhouse, the lone defender of reason besieged by progressive zealots and digital hysterics. It’s a compelling self‑image if you never check the room. But when he turns his attention to Bluesky — that unruly, generous, artist‑driven corner of the internet — the mismatch between his rhetoric and reality becomes almost operatic.

Maher’s case rests on a set of assumptions that feel less like observations and more like grievances hardened into worldview. He describes Bluesky as a cloister of fragile progressives, a humorless monastery where dissent is punished and ideological purity enforced. It’s a portrait so exaggerated it reveals its own distance from the truth. Bluesky, in practice, is a place where people argue, joke, create, flirt, mourn, celebrate, and occasionally make absolute fools of themselves — in other words, a human space. It is messy, porous, and alive in ways Maher’s caricature cannot accommodate.

The false accusations he levels — that progressives on Bluesky are uniformly censorious, uniformly cruel, uniformly allergic to comedy — collapse under even casual scrutiny. The platform is full of artists posting daily collages, naturalists sharing small wonders, queer communities building pockets of joy, scientists explaining complex ideas with patience, and writers experimenting with form. It is not a monoculture; it is a commons. And like any commons, it has its frictions, but those frictions are signs of life, not signs of tyranny.

What makes Maher’s critique feel particularly poor is not simply that it’s inaccurate, but that it’s incurious. He does not ask what Bluesky is trying to build, or why so many people find it restorative. He does not consider that progressives might be responding to decades of online hostility with new norms of care and accountability. Instead, he treats any deviation from his preferred style of discourse as evidence of authoritarianism. It’s a kind of rhetorical laziness — the refusal to imagine that the world might have grown more complex than his punchlines.

And then there’s the cruelty. Not the flamboyant cruelty of insult comedy, but the quieter cruelty of dismissal. Maher speaks of progressives as though they are abstractions, interchangeable scolds whose only function is to ruin the fun. He flattens their motives, their creativity, their humor, their interiority. He cannot see the tenderness in a Bluesky thread where strangers comfort someone grieving a parent; the delight in a feed full of hand‑drawn birds; the civic imagination in a community organizing mutual aid. To him, these are not people but obstacles — evidence of a culture that no longer centers him.

This is why his case fails: it is built on a phantom. He is arguing with a version of the left that exists only in his monologues, a cardboard villain he can knock down with ease. The real thing — the living, breathing, contradictory, often hilarious progressive digital culture — is far more interesting than the one he keeps inventing. And Bluesky, in its earnestness and its chaos, is precisely the kind of space he claims no longer exists: one where people try, imperfectly, to be good to one another without surrendering wit or individuality.

Maher could understand this if he wanted to. He could log on, wander, listen. But listening requires humility, and humility is the one virtue his current persona cannot accommodate. So he continues to misread the room, mistaking his own discomfort for someone else’s oppression, mistaking his own fading cultural centrality for a crisis of civilization.

The irony is that Bluesky is not rejecting him. It is simply moving on — building something he never bothered to imagine.

*Terry Trueman has created this writing with AI assistance, and its content is not published or produced by Vincent V Triola whose brilliant memes, etc can be found on—

For fellow writers, I think you’ll find the visit worthwhile:
A Simple Yes https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nfo806c_Trg

A Simple Yes

A Simple Yes

When I was young, 19 and 20
I started writing poems,
Tried to write them anyway,
And I sent them out most every day.

In that era, one could be
a Pretty bad poet and still you’d see
Sometimes you’d make it into a small mag
With lots of other poems that’d make you gag.

And yet, often there were famous writers there too
Famous then or later, with other poets like you:
Bukowski was one, I called him Buke
he always remained faithful
To the little mags who loved him
Celebrating his stuff about life and nukes
He’d still get rejection slips sometimes,
Even when he was rich and sublime
To millions of readers putting him in the zone
Making a million bucks a year on German Royalties alone.

[guitar bridge]

Those early poems of mine,
Had their own fates and destinies,
So hard to write,
So awkward, for me
Like the very first
Efforts at asking Girls to dance:
Trapped in puberty and hopeless
Dreams and fantasies of romance
And working on schemes
Wanting to kiss, and hoping for more
but at that age, never able to score.
Still, once in awhile
A gorgeous blond,
In her tight pink sweater
Full of great style
Would simple smile and whisper, “Yes”
To a poem, of course, never to sex
And the two of us would walk onto the dance floor,
My wet hand in hers,
sweat starting to pour
my heart going ape-shit
Almost as good as tearing open
A S A S E from a tiny mag
Out of Owl Fart, Iowa,
With a circulation lag
Of maybe two-fifty
And that simple word, “Yes.”
that was heaven then
it’s still heaven today when
Even after a long lifetime
Of both good and bad sex.
You get that sweet smile
With all it suggests.

Lyrics and arrangement by Terry Trueman

Trueman Music | Join me on Suno https://suno.com/@captivatingminimalism0623

Terry Trueman - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@TerryTrueman-w6e

Vincent Triola - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@vincentvtriola

*Terry Trueman has created this with AI assistance.

Zach Carpenter’s Infinity Sucks and Other Songs arrives like a small detonation—quiet, bright, and strangely cleansing. What makes the book remarkable isn’t simply its humor or its philosophical daring, but the way it blends artistic modes until the stories feel less like written artifacts and more like mixed‑media installations. Carpenter treats fiction as a site of collision: comic timing slams into conceptual art, lyric interiority brushes against graphic‑novel visuality, and speculative fable dissolves into philosophical prank. The result is a narrative texture that feels contemporary in the deepest sense, not because it chases trends but because it metabolizes the fragmented, multi‑modal way we actually experience culture now.

The title story, Infinity Sucks, is the clearest example of this hybrid vigor. Infinity becomes a comic‑cosmic nuisance, a metaphysical problem rendered with the pacing of a recurring gag in a cartoon. Scenes unfold like absurdist tableaux, each one a visual beat as much as a narrative one. Repetition works like musical motif; philosophical footnotes behave like graffiti. Carpenter uses humor not as decoration but as a delivery system for sincerity, smuggling vulnerability past the reader’s defenses. You laugh, and then you realize you’ve been moved.

Across the collection, the stories operate like collages—fragments of dialogue, tonal pivots, metafictional winks, and conceptual scaffolding arranged with the instinct of a visual artist. Meaning emerges not from a single dominant mode but from juxtaposition. It’s the same anti‑corporate epistemology we’ve traced in contemporary collage practices: a refusal to let any one frame dictate the truth. Carpenter trusts the reader to assemble the architecture of feeling themselves, and that trust becomes part of the book’s emotional power.

What lingers after reading isn’t just the stories but their afterlives. They return as images, rhythms, jokes, and philosophical provocations. They behave like hybrid organisms—part narrative, part performance, part conceptual art—each one continuing to evolve in memory. Carpenter’s achievement is to make fiction feel porous again, open to other arts, other ways of knowing, other forms of play.

In a cultural moment saturated with spectacle and commodified storytelling, Infinity Sucks and Other Songs feels like a reminder: art is most alive when it crosses borders, borrows languages, and refuses to stay in its lane. It’s a book built for the civic imagination, for readers who understand that the future of narrative will be multidisciplinary or it will be thin.

* * *

Full disclosure here:

TT: I’m often asked to provide cover blurbs for other writers’ works, and am usually glad to do so. In the case of this book, however, Zach and I go back a long way, to his childhood when I was close to his parents. That makes a blurb a bit more suspect; thus this note. Lest anyone believe this is why I’m saying nice shit about Infinity Sucks, well, that ain’t the case. Zach’s book kicks ass in all the right ways. BTW, he was one of my writing students way back when, too, and I love him as a writer, friend, and for his spirit.

*Terry Trueman has created this writing with AI assistance, and its content is not published or produced by Vincent V Triola whose brilliant memes, etc can be found on—

Seattle rain’s a drizzle, often all day long
A dripping, drooling sky, following you along
Everything wet and lost, nothin’ much gained
Everything drippin’ with Seattle rain.

The Beatles sang about Rain too
How you gotta rise above it
But Seattle rain was always cruel
Tough to put up with

But sometimes, once’n awhile
A day dawned bright, sky blue
Like a Beatles song calling, joyfully out to you
Good day sunshine, good day, good day, good day
Ain’t no rain from this sky today, no how, no way.

Seattle rain was chilly, makin’ you feel blue
Part of the life lived in the PNW
But when sunshine called out loudly, called out right to you
You and the Beatles were aligned, happy through and through.

Seattle rain’s a drizzle, often all day long
A dripping, drooling sky, following you along
Everything wet and lost with nothin’ much gained
Everything drippin’ with Seattle rain.

My angry father’s rants explainin’ life to me,
felt like Seattle drizzle going on and on, you see
But I’d put on the Beatles and turn my life warm
Like playing on a beach in August escaping in the sun.

All lyrics and arrangement by Terry Trueman

Terry Trueman - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@TerryTrueman-w6e

Vincent Triola - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@vincentvtriola

*Terry Trueman has created this with AI assistance.

Cheeto Jesus Won https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aC0qm3A9pZQ

Lyrics and arrangement by Terry Trueman

Forest Gump’s Ma

Verse 1
Ignorance and stupidity are not the same thing,
Ignorance can be remedied
While stupidity remains unchanged.

Verse 2
You can read a book, you can listen close
You can hear a song that moves you deeply
But Stupid is as stupid does said Forest’s ma who knew it surely

Chorus
Just had an election, Cheeto Jesus won
Just had an election the imbecile stunned
Stupid folks got their man, hope they’re having fun.

Verse 3
Like Forest’s ma said to her boy
A box of chocolates ain’t predictable,
Nor guaranteed to bring you joy.

Verse 4
But even a moron, pure unfixable,
Can become POTUS one fine day
Gaining world acclaim until Nukes blow us away.

Just had an election, Cheeto Jesus won
Just had an election the imbecile stunned
Stupid folks got their man, hope they’re having fun.

Ignorance and stupidity are not the same thing,
Ignorance can be remedied
While stupidity remains unchanged.

Just had an election, Cheeto Jesus won
Just had an election the imbecile stunned
Stupid folks got their man, hope they’re having fun.

I say Just had an election, Cheeto Jesus won
Stupid folks got their man, hope they’re having fun
Just had an election the imbecile stunned
Just had an election the imbecile stunned
Stupid folks got their man, hope they’re having fun
Got their man
Got their man
Gaining world acclaim
All that’s left to say
until Nukes blow us all away.

Trueman Music | Join me on Suno https://suno.com/@captivatingminimalism0623

Terry Trueman - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@TerryTrueman-w6e

Vincent Triola - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@vincentvtriola

*Terry Trueman has created this with AI assistance.

Lyrics and arrangement by Terry Trueman

Enough is Enough by Trueman Music | Suno https://suno.com/song/bd3b888f-4dc2-47ac-a056-53cc12be1dae

Enough is enough

We can’t condemn hypocrisy
As it’s our present currency
That hero Bernie Madoff, you see
Was no hypocrite in his venality

Bernie always blamed his victims
For their enormous greed
Unwilling to settle for fifteen percent
When he was promising fifty-three

Chorus
Hypocrisy was the only thing
That pissed off Jesus C.
That and molesting kids
Which got you thrown into the sea

Bitcoin’s gonna make us all trillionaires
Like Musk, Bezos, Zuck and Trump
You see enough is never enough
For Bezos, Zuck , Trump and Musk
{bridge}


Chorus
Hypocrisy was the only thing
That pissed off Jesus C.
That and molesting kids
Got you thrown into the sea

But enough is never enough
You got yer bootstraps left, you see
Grab ‘em and jerk yerself up
So a billionaire you too can be
‘cause enough is never enough
When it comes to hypocrisy
And enough is never enough
If anyone is richer than me

Bernie Madoff looked folks in the eye
And said, don’t give it all to me
But if you do, I ain’t gonna lie
Enough is never enough you see
Enough is never enough
Never enough hypocrisy
Enough is never enough My friends
Until you let yerself let it be.

Trueman Music | Join me on Suno https://suno.com/@captivatingminimalism0623

Terry Trueman - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@TerryTrueman-w6e

Vincent Triola - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@vincentvtriola

*Terry Trueman has created this with AI assistance.

Lyrics and arrangement by Terry Trueman

Loonies in the Attic https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tiickp5sx_g

Loonies in the Attic

We got loonies in the attic
We got crazies in the ballroom hall
We got maniacs in the basement
Man, we got ‘em all

We got killers in the attic
We got grifters in the ballroom hall
We got thieves in the basement
Yeah, we got ‘em all

Chorus
Maga is what maga be
maga heeds the call
we got maga stains on everything
when the fuck will maga fall?

We got loonies in the attic
We got crazies in the ballroom hall
We got maniacs in the basement
Man, we got ‘em all

We got killers in the attic
We got grifters in the ballroom hall
We got thieves in the basement
Yeah, we got ‘em all

Maga is what maga be
maga heeds the call
we got maga stains on everything
when the fuck will maga fall?

Maga loonies
Maga crazies
Maga maniacs and all
Maga killers
Maga grifters
Maga thieves
We got ‘em all

Not every maga’s evil
Not every maga’s foul
Some are just plain dumb as rocks
Sure of their rights and all
The right to tell you what do do,
Avoid vaccinations
Maga dumb
Plays racist cards
Maga bums
Make ‘Merica great again
For good old Jim crow laws
And fascist fun


Maga be what maga be
Maga needs to heed the call
Maga stains on everything
When will those asshats fall?

Trueman Music | Join me on Suno https://suno.com/@captivatingminimalism0623

Terry Trueman - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@TerryTrueman-w6e

Vincent Triola - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@vincentvtriola

*Terry Trueman has created this with AI assistance.

Lyrics & Arrangement by Terry Trueman

Reagan Didn't Mean To by Trueman Music | Suno https://suno.com/song/90ee808a-d187-4a50-b932-25381744b913

Reagan Didn’t Mean to

Reagan didn't mean to give us Trump
it's hard to get over the hump!

Reagan didn't mean to give us trump
he should gone with an abortion bump!

Trump loves the break shit every day
like a n angry five year old I'd say

And all because Reagan got his way
Reagan gave us Trump today

Reagan didn't mean to give us Trump
it's hard to get over the hump!

Reagan didn't mean to give us trump
he should gone with an abortion bump!

Trump loves the break shit every day
like a n angry five year old I'd say

And all because Reagan got his way
Reagan gave us Trump today

Reagan didn't mean to give us Trump
it's hard to get over the hump!

Reagan didn't mean to give us trump
he should gone with an abortion bump!

Trump loves the break shit every day
like a n angry five year old I'd say

And all because Reagan got his way
Reagan gave us Trump today.

Trueman Music | Join me on Suno https://suno.com/@captivatingminimalism0623

Terry Trueman - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@TerryTrueman-w6e

Vincent Triola - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@vincentvtriola

*Terry Trueman has created this with AI assistance.

Lyrics & Arrangement by Terry Trueman

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPnb09pOeuA&list=RDGpJbo83Udfw&index=4

Getting old,
older anyway,
Has
Among its benefits,
Joyful bitterness—
A crazy sounding thing to say
Bad as that might sound to those of you
Young, still full of hope,
It’s a simple fact too.
We older ones learn
This hard truth:
Only time
Can carry us through:

Friendships
In their DNA
Have
Paltry limitations,
built-in expiration dates.
Absent any explanation
My ‘best’ friend
For half a century
Is now grotesque to me
Ugly not just as an
Obese, troll
But deep down
In his darkest soul—
It’s not a single thing
That can be described,
It’s a rotting at the core of himself
A deadly stinking tide;
The friendship cannot go on
I won’t allow it.
Life has forced its permanent closure;
There is no alternate fit.

Maybe
Age is not the issue
Maybe it’s more of a
Wisdom thing,
An ancient knowledge,
Always there
for decades
a rip in the tissue

I lift a whiskey to my lips
And stare at the perfect ass
And big boobs
Of a lovely/sexy woman
Who has just walked past.
She doesn’t glance my way
if she did
I’d be invisible to her.
An old man with nothing to say
She may not be
Thinking about her striking
Beauty as she goes by
Or about, just now,
Flicking her head so her shiny hair
Makes all of us sigh
Remembering when we were young and strong
Living out our own sweet lies.
She keeps a view of her face
obstructed for none to see--
she may be
Thinking exactly about
How gorgeous she happens to be
She’s a woman, after all
And songs,
Legends,
Myths,
Lives,
Deaths
Have always been
Written about her
Devoted to her slightest whims—

Is my age the thing that
Shows me this truth?
This terrible accumulation of
Aging wisdom with all its costs;
I’ve seen this woman
Tens of thousands of times.
Through hot summer days
And cold winter frosts
And this morning
As she walks on by,
Maybe tweeting her simple thoughts
sentimental notions
About love,
Her cat(s)
And battles she’s fought
About her favorite drink
The prettiness of rainbows
The unfairness of a friend
Her sad, sad day--
And we men,
Seeing her flick her hair away,
Regardless of our age or status
Our wealth/fame/or out lack thereof
Regardless of any and all else,
Stop whatever we’re doing
And Tweet our regards,
Our sympathies
Our admiration,
Our kind words
Our deepest
Understanding.
We
Re-tweet her vapid
Empty
Notions
As if they matter
We favorite all her tweets
As if they
Matter greatly.
Greatly,
Because
Well,
You never know. . .

Joyful bitterness
Comes from
Finally seeing/hearing,
Listening/noticing
Many things
That have always been
Right in front of us
But that
For whatever
Combination of reasons
We somehow could
Not quite notice.

It has taken time to learn that
Honesty
Always comes with a price,
That directness often
Leads to loss, whether yer wrong or right—
age has little to do with it
Other than the truth
That it takes years to attain
joyful bitterness
a long time past our youth.

Trueman Music | Join me on Suno https://suno.com/@captivatingminimalism0623

Terry Trueman - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@TerryTrueman-w6e

Vincent Triola - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@vincentvtriola

*Terry Trueman has created this with AI assistance.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GhTGvacNffA&list=RDGpJbo83Udfw&index=3

EXPERATION DATES

Verse
We all gotta go sometime
Like Otis Redding crashing into the bay,
like Buddy Holly falling outta the sky
Like a scared man pleading “don’t let me die”
We all gotta go sometime

Verse
The good and the bad, all gotta go
Hitler and Ghandi, Curly Larry and Moe
Whether yer coarse or oh so fine
We all gotta go sometime

Chorus
The deal is we got expiration dates
We’re just like the trees, we got the same fate
Whether yer high or whether yer low
Someday, sometime, we all gotta go

Verse
As you grow older there’re fewer roles
Whether ingénue or handsome stud
As you get older you learn the ropes
Of getting used to the loss of hope.

The deal is we got expiration dates
We’re just like flowers, we got the same fate
Whether yer high or whether yer low
Someday, sometime, we all gotta go


Verse
You know from the day you are born
You know for sure you’ll hear the horns
Blown by angels or the devil to all
Because sooner or later we all gotta fall

We all gotta go sometime
Like Otis Redding crashing into the bay,
like Buddy Holly falling outta the sky
Like john Lennon pleading “don’t let me die”
We all gotta go sometime

The deal is we got expiration dates
We’re just like every living thing, we got the same fate
Whether yer high or whether yer low
Someday, sometime, we all gotta go.

Trueman Music | Join me on Suno https://suno.com/@captivatingminimalism0623

Terry Trueman - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@TerryTrueman-w6e

Vincent Triola - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@vincentvtriola

*Terry Trueman has created this with AI assistance.

YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GpJbo83Udfw&list=RDGpJbo83Udfw&start_radio=1

She Knew Every Trick

I knew this woman,
Crazy as a loon
Gorgeous body, gorgeous face
Looks that sent you over the moon
I knew this woman,
Crazy as a loon
Gorgeous body, gorgeous face
Looks that sent you over the moon

Chorus
She seemed to know every trick a woman, could ever know
How to drive you mad and bad
Her slave or lover or dismissed foe

Verse
She’d start a conversation, a simple little chat
With superfluous nonsense, and utterly maddening crap
Before you saw it coming she’d sigh and walk away
As if all matters were settled, so long as she got her way.

She seemed to know every trick a woman, could ever know
How to drive you mad and bad
Her slave or lover or dismissed foe

Verse
When she dumped me once and for all
Took up with my old friend
I never saw either of them again
And am forever grateful for that end
Am forever grateful for that end
Am forever grateful for that end
Wouldn’t have wanted to pretend
There was any other way the thing could end.

I knew this woman,
Crazy as a loon
Gorgeous body, gorgeous face
Looks that sent you over the moon.

Trueman Music | Join me on Suno https://suno.com/@captivatingminimalism0623

Terry Trueman - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@TerryTrueman-w6e

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*Terry Trueman has created this with AI assistance.