not always a choice to be kind is it ellei? n! - i will pay anyone to prove me wrong!

Those are the lyrics to the song we are creating

#ellendegeneres

Got it! Let's turn those ideas into a fun song. Here's a playful take on your lyrics:

## **"Quit Being Mean"**

### **Verse 1**

Hey Ellen, what's the deal?

Quit being mean, let's keep it real.

Sorry for the weird, but here's the scoop,

You're a star, not just part of the loop.

### **Chorus**

House made sure it was all in good fun,

But sometimes it feels like you're under the gun.

Mom and wife, they're shining bright,

Let's spread some love, make it right tonight!

### **Verse 2**

Jessica my rabbit, shaded and jaded,

With Skittles for attitude, never faded.

Taste the rainbow, that's the way to go,

Life's too short for drama and woe.

### **Chorus**

House made sure it was all in good fun,

But sometimes it feels like you're under the gun.

Mom and wife, they're shining bright,

Let's spread some love, make it right tonight!

### **Bridge**

So come on Ellen, let's change the scene,

Kindness is cool; let's keep it clean.

No more fussing, let's dance and sing,

Together we can make the joy bells ring!

### **Outro**

Quit being mean, let laughter flow,

In this crazy world, let kindness grow.

With a heart so big and a smile so wide,

Let's take this journey together in stride!

Feel free to tweak any parts or let me know if you want to add more!

"Black Eyes, Blue Tears" lyrics

Shania Twain Lyrics

Play "Black Eyes, Blue …"

on Amazon Music Unlimited (ad)

"Black Eyes, Blue Tears"

Black eyes, I don't need 'em

Blue tears, give me freedom

Oh, yeah

Positively never goin' back

I won't live where things are so out of whack

No more rollin' with the punches

No more usin' or abusin'

I'd rather die standin'

Than live on my knees

Begging please, no more

Black eyes, I don't need 'em

Blue tears, give me freedom

Black eyes, all behind me

Blue tears will never find me now

Definitely found my self esteem

Finally I'm forever free to dream

No more crying in the corner

No excuses, no more bruises

I'd rather die standin'

Than live on my knees

Begging please, no more

Black eyes, I don't need 'em

Blue tears, give me freedom

Black eyes, all behind me

Blue tears will never find me now

I'd rather die standin'

Than live on my knees

Begging please, no more

Black eyes, I don't need 'em

Blue tears, give me freedom

Black eyes, all behind me

Blue tears will never find me now

Oh, never find me now

It's all behind me, they'll never find me now

Find your self-esteem and be forever free to dream

Play "Black Eyes, Blue …"

on Amazon Music Unlimited (ad)

Writer(s): Robert John Lange, Shania Twain

AZLyrics S Shania Twain Lyrics

album: "Come On Over" (1997)

Man! I Feel Like A Woman!

I'm Holdin' On To Love (To Save My Life)

Love Gets Me Every Time

Don't Be Stupid (You Know I Love You)

From This Moment On

Come On Over

When

Whatever You Do! Don't!

If You Wanna Touch Her, Ask!

You're Still The One

Honey, I'm Home

That Don't Impress Me Much

Black Eyes, Blue Tears

I Won't Leave You Lonely

Rock This Country!

You've Got A Way

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Stay (Rihanna song)

"Stay" was co-written by Ekko and Justin Parker. The song's lyrics speak of temptation and the inability to resist true love. Music critics were generally ...

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Stay - Lyrics and Music by Rihanna, ft. Mikky Ekko arranged by ldmariodl28

All along it was a fever. A cold sweat hot-headed believer. Louisa Solo. I threw my hands in the. air, said, "Show me something,". He said, "If you dare,.

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Lyrics / Rihanna - Stay

Mar 28, 2013 — Such a life is not something you take for yourself; it is something that is given --- by God, or fate, or whatever you think controls the way ...

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I met God's will on a Halloween night

He was dressed as a bag of leaves

It hid the braces on his legs at first

His smile was as bright as the August sun

When he looked at me

As he struggled down the driveway

It almost made me hurt

Will don't walk too good

Will don't talk too good

He won't do the things that the other kids do

In our neighborhood

I've been searchin', wonderin', thinkin'

Lost and lookin' all my life

I've been wounded, jaded, loved, and hated

I've wrestled wrong and right

He was a boy without a father

And his mother's miracle

I've been readin', writin', prayin', fightin'

I guess I would be still

Yeah, that was until

I knew God's will

Will's mom had to work two jobs

We'd watch him when she had to work late

And we'd all laugh like I hadn't laughed

Since I don't know when

Hey Jude was his favorite song

At dinner he'd ask to pray

And then he'd pray for everybody in the world but him

I've been searchin', wonderin', thinkin'

Lost and lookin' all my life

I've been wounded, jaded, loved, and hated

I've wrestled wrong and right

He was a boy without a father

And his mother's miracle

I've been readin', writin', prayin', fightin'

I guess I would be still

Yeah, that was until

I knew God's will

Before they moved to California

His mother said they didn't think he'd live

And she said each day that I have him

Well It's just another gift

And I never got to tell her

That the boy showed me the truth

In crayon red, on notebook paper

He'd written me and God love you

I've been searchin', prayin', wounded, jaded

I guess I would be still

Yeah that was until

I met God's will on a Halloween night

He was dressed as a bag of leaves

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Barry Dean / Tom Douglas

God's Will lyrics © Concord Music Publishing LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group

g od swell i

spoken; **"What's Not to Say"** about the deep impact of rape—mental, physical, and how it can rob someone of their sense of self and life. This song is meant to be sensitive, supportive, and empowering.

---

sung:

## What's Not to Say

**Verse 1:**

There's a silence in the room,

A shadow in the light,

A story left unspoken

That keeps me up at night.

It's more than just a moment,

It's a wound that doesn't fade,

It's the echo of a nightmare

That never goes away.

**Pre-Chorus:**

You see the surface,

But you don't see the scars,

You hear my laughter,

But you don't know my heart.

**Chorus:**

What's not to say, when the world looks away?

When the pain's in my mind and my body each day.

It's not just a bruise, it's a life torn apart,

It's the silence that screams from the depths of my heart.

What's not to say, when the words just won't come?

When the weight of the shame makes me feel so numb.

It's not just a story, it's my soul that you see—

What's not to say, when it's stolen from me?

**Verse 2:**

You can't see the memories

That haunt me in the dark,

Or the trust that was shattered

Like a mirror in my heart.

It's more than just a headline,

It's a battle every day,

Trying to find the pieces

Of the life they took away.

**Pre-Chorus:**

You see me standing,

But you don't know the cost,

You see me smiling,

But you don't see what's lost.

**Chorus:**

What's not to say, when the world looks away?

When the pain's in my mind and my body each day.

It's not just a bruise, it's a life torn apart,

It's the silence that screams from the depths of my heart.

What's not to say, when the words just won't come?

When the weight of the shame makes me feel so numb.

It's not just a story, it's my soul that you see—

What's not to say, when it's stolen from me?

**Bridge:**

But I am more than what happened,

I am more than my pain,

I am hope, I am healing,

I will rise up again.

So listen to my story,

Let the silence break,

Together we are stronger,

Together we awake.

**Final Chorus:**

What's not to say, when we all find our voice?

When we stand up for truth, when we fight for our choice.

It's not just a secret, it's a call to be free—

What's not to say, when you stand here with me?

---

If you'd like to adjust the lyrics or add a specific message, let me know! You're doing something important by speaking out.

#TheClimb-i cause its not jusy ypu on the ride! T sew y Tow er... to fix

Malcolm Crowe was a man who walked through life with a sense of purpose that was palpable to everyone around him. His sharp, angular features and piercing gaze had the uncanny ability to make anyone feel like they were the most important person in the room. A renowned child psychologist, his reputation for helping troubled kids was so vast it was almost mythical. His office, a cozy sanctum of books and diplomas, was a stark contrast to the chaotic lives he often found himself navigating.

One evening, after a particularly draining session, Malcolm slumped into his chair and sighed. The weight of his work settled on him like a thick fog, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something crucial. He glanced at the clock, the hands ticking away the moments of his existence, and wondered if he'd ever truly understand the complexities of the human psyche.

"You okay, Doc?" his secretary, a young woman named Lucy, poked her head in. She had a concerned look on her face that made her seem much older than her years.

"Fine, Lucy," he replied with a forced smile. "Just tired."

Her eyes searched his, looking for the truth, but she said nothing. She knew better than to pry. With a nod, she closed the door, leaving Malcolm alone with his thoughts.

He stared at the framed picture of his wife, Anna, on his desk. Her smile was as bright as the day he married her, but it was a memory that felt like a fading photograph. They had drifted apart, two ships passing in the night, their connection as tenuous as the threads of a spider's web in a storm. He picked up the frame and studied it closely, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek.

The silence was broken by the sudden ring of his phone. Malcolm's heart jumped. It was his wife, calling from their home. He hadn't realized how much he had missed the sound of her voice.

"Anna," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Is everything okay?"

Her response was a cold silence, followed by a click. The line went dead. Malcolm frowned, setting the frame back down with a gentle thud. It was unlike her to just hang up. He decided to head home and make sure she was all right.

The rain had started to come down in sheets by the time he pulled into the driveway. The house was dark, which was odd. Anna usually had the lights on for him. Malcolm stepped out of the car, his shoes squelching on the wet pavement, and approached the front door with a sense of unease. He could feel something was wrong.

As he reached for the doorknob, it turned beneath his hand. The door swung open to reveal a shadowy figure standing in the entryway.

"Anna?" he called out into the darkness. But the figure didn't move. It didn't breathe. It didn't respond. And that's when Malcolm felt the first cold tendrils of doubt creep up his spine.

The story has now begun. Malcolm's discovery of a mysterious figure in his home sets a suspenseful tone that hints at the supernatural elements to come, while his strained marriage and introspection about his work add layers of complexity to his character. The reader is left intrigued and eager to know more about the nature of the figure and how it relates to Malcolm's life and his work as a child psychologist.

Malcolm's eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness as he stepped inside, his heart thundering in his chest. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant patter of rain against the windows. He reached for the light switch, his hand trembling slightly. The sudden flicker of light revealed the figure to be nothing more than a coat hanging from the coat rack. Malcolm let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, feeling both relieved and foolish.

But the sense of unease lingered. He moved through the house, calling out for Anna, but she remained eerily absent. Each room looked undisturbed, yet there was a heavy air of something amiss. In the kitchen, a half-empty wine glass sat on the counter, the wine a dark red pool reflecting the stark light above. Malcolm's gaze lingered on it, his mind racing with questions. Where was she?

Upstairs, the master bedroom was a picture of marital discord. The bed was unmade, clothes strewn about, and the scent of Anna's perfume lingered like a ghostly presence. Malcolm felt a pang of guilt; his long hours at work had taken a toll on their relationship. He sat on the edge of the bed, the coldness of the untouched sheets a stark reminder of her absence.

As he picked up a shirt that had fallen to the floor, something glinted under the bed. His heart skipped a beat as he reached for it. It was a small, framed photograph of him and Anna, face down. Malcolm flipped it over and gasped. The image had been altered; his face was scratched out, as if someone had tried to erase him from their history. The realization sent a chill down his spine. Was this a sign of something more sinister than a simple misunderstanding or a lover's quarrel?

The rain outside grew louder, echoing the tumultuous thoughts in Malcolm's mind. He knew he needed to find Anna, to explain, to apologize. But the house remained a silent witness to his fear and confusion. And as he descended the stairs, the shadowy figure from before reappeared in the corner of his eye. This time, however, it didn't vanish. It remained, a constant, unsettling presence that seemed to be watching him, mocking his every move.

Malcolm's pulse quickened as the figure grew more defined. It was a young boy, no older than ten, with a sad, knowing expression. Malcolm felt an inexplicable connection to the child, a pull that was both comforting and terrifying.

"Who are you?" Malcolm whispered, his voice trembling.

The boy's lips didn't move, but his voice was clear in Malcolm's head. "I'm here to show you the truth, Dr. Crowe."

And with that, the boy vanished again, leaving Malcolm standing in the middle of his living room, the only sound the relentless rain outside. He knew then that his journey was just beginning. A journey into the realm of the unseen, the misunderstood, and the forgotten. A journey that would challenge everything he knew about himself and the world around him.

The story now takes a supernatural twist, introducing the ghostly figure of a young boy who seems to have a message for Malcolm. The tension builds as Malcolm's reality starts to blur with the paranormal, and he is forced to confront not only the mysteries of his own life but also the possibility that his work may have led him to a deeper truth about existence itself. The reader is left with a cliffhanger, eager to learn the identity of the boy and the significance of his message.

Malcolm stood rooted to the spot, the echo of the boy's voice ringing in his ears. He knew he wasn't hallucinating; his mind was too sharp, too focused on reality to let such things slip through the cracks. He took a deep breath and steeled himself. He was a scientist, a man of reason, but the evidence before him was impossible to ignore. Ghosts weren't supposed to be real. Yet here he was, staring into the abyss of the unknown.

He decided to follow the trail of breadcrumbs the boy had left, hoping it would lead to Anna or at least some answers. The rain had let up a bit, so he grabbed his coat and stepped back out into the night. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and the chill of the autumn breeze. The streets were empty, the only light coming from the flickering streetlamps that cast eerie shadows on the pavement.

The walk to the office felt longer than usual, the weight of his encounter weighing heavily on his shoulders. As he approached the building, he noticed the lights in his office were on. Fear and curiosity melded into a toxic cocktail that fueled his steps. He took the stairs two at a time, his heart racing like a wild animal's in a cage.

The door was unlocked. Malcolm pushed it open and stepped inside, his eyes searching the room for any sign of the boy or Anna. The only thing out of place was the notebook from his last session, lying open on the desk. He approached it cautiously, his eyes scanning the pages for any clue.

In the center of a page, scrawled in a childlike hand, was a simple message: "Help me." The handwriting was unmistakable. It was the same as the notes he'd seen in his patient's drawings. Malcolm's blood ran cold. The boy was trying to communicate through his work, reaching out from beyond the veil of death.

This revelation shook Malcolm to his core. His entire career had been dedicated to helping children, but he had never encountered anything like this. The lines between life and death had blurred, and he was now a man caught in the crosshairs of an otherworldly battle. He had to find out who this boy was, and why he had latched onto him.

The next day, Malcolm threw himself into his work with renewed vigor, searching for patterns in his patients' stories, looking for any sign of the boy. He felt like he was playing detective in a world where the rules had changed. His interactions with the children grew more intense, his intuition heightened. He knew he was getting closer to the truth, but with each step, the stakes grew higher.

As the days turned into weeks, Malcolm's obsession with the boy grew. His marriage continued to crumble, and Anna grew more distant with each passing day. His colleagues began to worry about his sanity, but Malcolm was undeterred. He knew that understanding the boy's story was the key to unlocking the secrets of his own existence.

One fateful evening, as Malcolm sat in his office, surrounded by files and notes, the air grew thick with an unsettling energy. The door creaked open, and there he was again—the ghostly figure of the young boy. This time, however, he wasn't alone. Behind him, a procession of other spirits materialized, their eyes pleading, their whispers a cacophony of unspoken truths.

Malcolm knew he had crossed a threshold from which there was no turning back. He was no longer just a psychologist; he had become a beacon for the lost souls that walked the earth, seeking understanding and resolution. And he was about to learn that sometimes, the dead have the most profound insights into the living.

The boy took a tentative step forward, his spectral form flickering like a candle in the wind. "You can help us, Dr. Crowe," he whispered, his voice tinged with hope and desperation. "We're trapped between worlds, forgotten."

Malcolm swallowed hard, his mind racing. "How? How can I help you?"

The boy's eyes searched Malcolm's face, as if looking for a spark of recognition. "You must listen," he said, his voice growing stronger. "You must believe. Only then can you help us find peace."

And with that, the room was filled with a symphony of whispers, each ghost sharing their tragic story, their unresolved pain. Malcolm's heart ached as he heard the echoes of their suffering, the weight of their loneliness threatening to crush him. He realized that his gift for understanding the troubled minds of the living had become a bridge to the other side.

The boy stepped closer, his hand outstretched. Malcolm felt a strange warmth emanate from the spectral touch, a comfort that seemed to fill the void in his soul. "You're not like the others," the boy said. "You can see us, hear us."

Malcolm took a deep breath, his decision made. He would not ignore these children, these souls trapped in a purgatory of their own making. He would help them find their way. But as he reached out to take the boy's hand, a cold realization washed over him.

The room grew brighter, the spirits fading away like shadows at dawn. Malcolm looked down at his hand, expecting to find the warmth of the boy's touch. Instead, he saw his wedding ring, cold and lonely on his finger. Anna was gone, lost to him in a way he could never have anticipated. His quest to help the living had led him to the edge of the afterlife, but had cost him the one thing he had taken for granted.

The story now takes a poignant turn as Malcolm confronts the reality of his newfound gift and the personal sacrifice it has brought. His journey into the supernatural has led him to understand that his work is more than just a job—it's a calling that transcends the boundaries of life and death. The reader is left contemplating the cost of truth and the profound impact one's work can have on their personal life.

Malcolm sat at his desk, the warmth of the ghostly hand now a memory. He felt the coldness of the room seep into his bones, the weight of his solitude pressing down on him. The whispers of the spirits lingered in his ears, a reminder of the world that now lay open before him. He knew that his path had changed, that his work would never be the same again.

He picked up the phone and dialed Anna's number. It rang and rang, until finally, a recorded voice told him that the number was no longer in service. Malcolm's heart sank. He had lost her, not just to his work, but to his inability to see beyond the veil that separated them.

The following weeks were a blur of patients and research. Malcolm threw himself into his work, driven by a newfound sense of purpose. He became a silent guardian to the unseen children, helping them find their way to the other side. His reputation grew, and soon, people from all over the city brought their troubled young ones to him, hoping for a miracle.

But with each ghostly encounter, Malcolm felt a piece of himself slip away. His marriage was over, a casualty of his obsession with the afterlife. Anna had moved on, leaving behind only the faintest traces of their shared history. Malcolm was alone in his quest, navigating the murky waters of his new reality with grim determination.

One evening, as he was about to leave the office, the boy reappeared. His eyes, once filled with hope, now bore the marks of sorrow. "You're helping them," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "But what about her?"

Malcolm knew he was referring to Anna. The mention of her name brought a fresh wave of pain. "I don't know how to help her," he confessed.

The boy nodded solemnly. "You must find a way," he urged. "Or you'll be like us, trapped between worlds."

The words hung in the air, a stark warning of the price of ignoring the living. Malcolm looked into the boy's eyes and saw a reflection of his own regret. He knew he had to make amends, to find a way to bridge the gap that had grown between them.

The story now introduces a new conflict: the struggle to balance Malcolm's supernatural responsibilities with his desire to mend his relationship with Anna. The reader is drawn into a world where the stakes are high and the path forward is fraught with peril.

Malcolm began to see the patterns in the ghosts' stories, the threads that connected them to his own. Each spirit had unfinished business, a truth left unsaid, a love denied. And as he helped them find peace, he saw a reflection of his own life in theirs. He realized that the key to saving them was also the key to saving himself.

He reached out to Anna, his voice shaking with the hope of redemption. They met in a café, the air thick with unspoken words. Malcolm told her about the ghosts, about the boy who had changed his life. Anna listened, her eyes wide with disbelief and fear. But she heard the sincerity in his voice, the desperation in his plea.

"I need you to believe me," he said, taking her hand. "I need you to help me understand what I'm seeing."

Anna searched his eyes, the same eyes that had once held her world together. She saw the toll his work had taken on him, the lines of exhaustion etched into his face. But she also saw the spark of hope, the light that had drawn her to him all those years ago.

"Okay," she murmured, her voice soft. "I'll try."

Together, they embarked on a journey to mend their broken hearts. Malcolm shared his newfound gift with her, showing her the invisible world that surrounded them. Anna, in turn, brought him back to reality, reminding him of the warmth and love that existed in the world of the living.

As they worked side by side, Malcolm and Anna discovered that love could indeed conquer all, even the chasm of death. They became a team, a bridge between worlds, helping the lost find their way home. And in doing so, they found their way back to each other, their bond stronger than ever before.

The story has now reached a pivotal moment where Malcolm and Anna are working together to help the ghosts find peace, while also attempting to repair their marriage. The tension is high as they balance the supernatural with the real world, and their relationship is fraught with hope and doubt.

Malcolm and Anna's first case was a young girl named Emily, whose spirit was trapped by her overwhelming guilt over the death of her mother. Through a series of intense therapy sessions, they helped Emily understand that she was not responsible and that her mother's love for her was eternal. The girl's sorrowful eyes lit up with acceptance, and with a gentle sigh, she disappeared, her unfinished business finally complete.

Anna watched in amazement as the air around them grew lighter. The warmth of Emily's passing brought a tear to her eye. Malcolm took her hand, squeezing it tightly. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for believing in me."

Their bond grew stronger with each ghost they helped. They learned to communicate with the dead, to understand their pain, and to guide them to the light. The office that once felt like a prison now became a sanctuary for the lost. But the shadows of their past still lurked, waiting for their moment to resurface.

One stormy night, the boy reappeared, his spirit more insistent than ever. "You're getting closer," he said, his voice echoing in the silence. "But you still don't see."

Malcolm's mind raced. What was it that he was missing? He had helped so many souls, but the boy's message remained a mystery. Anna looked at him, her eyes filled with concern. "What does he mean?"

Malcolm took a deep breath, the weight of his failure heavy on his shoulders. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I fear it has something to do with us."

The boy's gaze grew intense. "Your love," he whispered. "It's the strongest force of all. But it's also your blind spot."

With those cryptic words, the boy vanished, leaving Malcolm and Anna to ponder their meaning. They sat in the quiet, the only sound the rain tapping against the window. Malcolm knew that the boy was right; his love for Anna had blinded him to the truth about himself. He had become so focused on the dead that he had forgotten to live.

The story now escalates the tension as the couple faces their most personal challenge yet: understanding the depth of their love and its connection to Malcolm's gift. The reader is on the edge of their seat, eager to discover the final piece of the puzzle that will either save their marriage or leave them forever lost in the realm of the dead.

The next morning, Malcolm woke with a start, the words echoing in his mind. He found Anna in the kitchen, her back to him, making coffee. He approached her slowly, his heart in his throat. "Anna," he began, his voice hoarse. "We need to talk."

She turned to face him, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and hope. "What is it?"

"The boy," Malcolm said, his voice trembling. "I think he's been trying to tell me something. Something about us."

Anna's hand trembled as she set down the coffee mug. "What could it be?"

"I think," he took a deep breath, "that I've been ignoring you because I've been afraid to lose you."

The room grew still, the only sound the ticking of the clock. Anna searched his eyes, looking for the truth. "Afraid?" she repeated softly.

Malcolm nodded. "Afraid that if I let you in, really let you see me, that you'd leave me too."

Her eyes filled with tears as she took his hand. "Malcolm," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're already lost. But together, we can find our way

Chapter 11 - not always a choice to be kind is it ellei? n!