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edjr

Asked Chat GPT to write a song

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"Write a country song about liberals complaining Trump won and use the names squissy, tim, gutterboy and rusty

 


(Verse 1)

Well, Squissy and Tim were out on the town,
Gutterboy’s truck broke down outside of Brown.
Rusty was laughing, sippin’ on a brew,
When the news broke out—Trump had won round two.
Squissy threw her hands up, said, “It’s the end!”
Tim started shoutin’, “He’s killin’ us again!”
Gutterboy shook his head with a pout,
Rusty leaned back, said, “What’s this fuss about?”

(Chorus)

Now Squissy’s cryin’, Tim’s yellin’, “Why?”
Gutterboy’s bloggin’ about the world gonna die.
Rusty just grins, says, “Ain’t it somethin’ funny,
When the tears start fallin’ ‘cause they lost all their money?”
It’s a small-town riot, ain’t no mystery,
With Squissy, Tim, Gutterboy, and Rusty.

(Verse 2)

Down at the diner, they were makin’ their case,
Squissy pulled a sign out, “Not my President’s face!”
Tim had charts and numbers, Gutterboy wrote a tweet,
Rusty tipped his hat and just stared at his meat.
“Well, y’all can scream, holler, and blame the man,”
Rusty said with a grin, pickin’ up his can.
“The way I see it, this is how it’ll be,
Y’all need a hobby ‘stead of arguin’ with me.”

(Chorus)

Now Squissy’s cryin’, Tim’s yellin’, “Why?”
Gutterboy’s bloggin’ about the world gonna die.
Rusty just grins, says, “Ain’t it somethin’ funny,
When the tears start fallin’ ‘cause they lost all their money?”
It’s a small-town riot, ain’t no mystery,
With Squissy, Tim, Gutterboy, and Rusty.

(Bridge)

Now, Squissy’s takin’ yoga, Tim’s got therapy,
Gutterboy’s still tweetin’, his threads ain’t free.
Rusty’s in his truck, singin’ to the sky,
Wonderin’ how four years made ‘em all wanna cry.

(Final Chorus)

Squissy’s cryin’, Tim’s yellin’, “Why?”
Gutterboy’s shoutin’ at the moon in the sky.
Rusty tips his hat and says, “Ain’t life sunny?
Y’all keep on talkin’, I’ll keep makin’ money.”
It’s a small-town circus, pure history,
With Squissy, Tim, Gutterboy, and Rusty.

(Outro)

Yeah, Squissy, Tim, Gutterboy, and Rusty,
Four mad liberals in a truck lookin’ dusty.
Complainin’ ‘bout the world, but what can you do?
Just laugh a little, ‘cause they’ll make it through.

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1 hour ago, edjr said:

 


(Verse 1)

Well, Squissy and Tim were out on the town,
Gutterboy’s truck broke down outside of Brown.
Rusty was laughing, sippin’ on a brew,
When the news broke out—Trump had won round two.
Squissy threw her hands up, said, “It’s the end!”
Tim started shoutin’, “He’s killin’ us again!”
Gutterboy shook his head with a pout,
Rusty leaned back, said, “What’s this fuss about?”

(Chorus)

Now Squissy’s cryin’, Tim’s yellin’, “Why?”
Gutterboy’s bloggin’ about the world gonna die.
Rusty just grins, says, “Ain’t it somethin’ funny,
When the tears start fallin’ ‘cause they lost all their money?”
It’s a small-town riot, ain’t no mystery,
With Squissy, Tim, Gutterboy, and Rusty.

(Verse 2)

Down at the diner, they were makin’ their case,
Squissy pulled a sign out, “Not my President’s face!”
Tim had charts and numbers, Gutterboy wrote a tweet,
Rusty tipped his hat and just stared at his meat.
“Well, y’all can scream, holler, and blame the man,”
Rusty said with a grin, pickin’ up his can.
“The way I see it, this is how it’ll be,
Y’all need a hobby ‘stead of arguin’ with me.”

(Chorus)

Now Squissy’s cryin’, Tim’s yellin’, “Why?”
Gutterboy’s bloggin’ about the world gonna die.
Rusty just grins, says, “Ain’t it somethin’ funny,
When the tears start fallin’ ‘cause they lost all their money?”
It’s a small-town riot, ain’t no mystery,
With Squissy, Tim, Gutterboy, and Rusty.

(Bridge)

Now, Squissy’s takin’ yoga, Tim’s got therapy,
Gutterboy’s still tweetin’, his threads ain’t free.
Rusty’s in his truck, singin’ to the sky,
Wonderin’ how four years made ‘em all wanna cry.

(Final Chorus)

Squissy’s cryin’, Tim’s yellin’, “Why?”
Gutterboy’s shoutin’ at the moon in the sky.
Rusty tips his hat and says, “Ain’t life sunny?
Y’all keep on talkin’, I’ll keep makin’ money.”
It’s a small-town circus, pure history,
With Squissy, Tim, Gutterboy, and Rusty.

(Outro)

Yeah, Squissy, Tim, Gutterboy, and Rusty,
Four mad liberals in a truck lookin’ dusty.
Complainin’ ‘bout the world, but what can you do?
Just laugh a little, ‘cause they’ll make it through.

If he is going to stare at his meat he should do so in private, not at a diner.

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