Using Ghost's song titles to make stories with an AI story generator

Amygdala's Ragdoll (again)

But joining the society comes with its own set of challenges – among them being memorizing arcane symbols and working elaborate rituals in underground chambers – which only adds to Jenna's growing sense of unease about this whole situation. And when members of her own family start turning up dead under mysterious circumstances,...

Sixth Line (Maybe you could tone it down a little more.): Becky had always been a bit over the top when it came to her lifestyle. She loved going out dancing, drinking and partying with her friends. But one night, after too many beers and shots, Becky snapped.

"This party is stupid," she said to herself. "I should head home."

But before she could even make it two steps, Becky was stopped by her friends. "Where are you going?" they asked. "We're just getting started."

Becky knew the temptation was strong, but she resisted and found a quiet corner to sit down. As she rested her head on her hand, she started to feel really tired. Maybe I could just go back home now, she thought as sleep began to claim her again...

Seventh Line? (And I, and I, dunno): And I, and I, dunno was born with nothing. I had no family, no friends. All I had were the poems in my head. Some day someone would find them and understand me. But for now, all I could do was wander the streets alone, scribbling down my thoughts on scraps of paper.

One day a man found me dangling from the branch of a tree by a piece of string. He took me to his home and gave me food and shelter against the night. And from then on, things changed for me. The man became my mentor; he taught me how to read and write, so that I could express my thoughts better. And through him, I met others like myself – people who had lost everything but their words still managed to live life fully – and we became a close-knit community united by our passion for poetry.

We used to laugh at how we'd always end up being homeless or living on the streets again one day but now...now we know that it's what keeps us grounded – it reminds us that no matter what happens in this life, we can always build anew with poetic words in our hearts.

Eight Line (Oh, all I ever knew before were clusters of holes!): The first time and last time I ever saw my dad were both in prison. The first time he was being held for a crime he didn't commit, and the last time he was being held for a crime he did commit.

I never knew my mom. She died months before I was born. All I ever knew were clusters of holes in my family tree. But even without them, life has been good to me. Better than good, really: it's been great!

I've had a steady job since graduating from college and have never been happier than when I'm working on new projects with some of the smartest people in the business. My friends are awesome, too — we go out all the time and have a ton of fun. So why do I keep looking back over my shoulder? What's bugging me is that I just can't shake the feeling that there's something wrong out there waiting to grab me by the neck... like one of those clusters of holes in my family tree might swallow me whole again!

Pre-chorus- First line (An eye for an eye, that's how the game works.): It was a dark and stormy night, and the only light coming from the windows of the old abandoned house were the flashes of lightning. Standing in the entranceway, Rogers looked around at his makeshift hideout—a junk pile he'd been digging through for the past two weeks. He had been living in this house ever since he lost his home to a fire.

Thunder crashed loudly outside, shaking the building to its very foundations. Rogers tightened his grip on his makeshift weapon—a rock he had found while scavenging through the garbage outside. He didn't like being alone in this place, especially with all these memories of bad times swirling around him like ghosts. But he had no choice; wherever he went now, drew attention—and enemies that would kill him without hesitation if they found him.

He waited patiently for another streak of lightning to illuminate his way—listening carefully for any sound that might indicate someone was coming closer. When nothing happened, he cautiously made his way further into the darkness, making sure not to let any debris trip him or contact any wires or broken boards underneath which could unexpectedly give away his position。 As always when it thundered like this outside, Rogers couldn't help but think about how similar it felt to being hit by a baseball bat...repeatedly。

Pre-chorus-Second Line(In losing my autonomy, a mutilated part of me.): I was always a bit of an Ah-ha kind of person; I loved solving puzzles and finding hidden meanings in things. But as the years go by, I find myself less and less able to do those things on my own. In fact, most days now it feels like my brain just won't work the way it used to.

It started with little things, like not being able to remember how to get from point A to point B without help. Then came bigger chunks of memory: fragments of conversations, people's faces- all gone completely drowned in a sea of jarring confusion. It was terrifying at first, but I quickly realized that if I wanted to live the life I once knew, I needed help.

So that's what I do now: I reach out for help whenever something gets too hard for me to handle on my own. And it's not always easy; there's always some form of stigma attached to being diagnosed with dementia, and many people refuse outright when they find out about it. But despite all the challenges life has thrown my way recently, nothing compares to the sense of emptiness and isolation that comes with losing autonomy over your own body . . .