Escaped Animals

Hi! Welcome to my channel. All songs here are a collaboration between my subconscious, my conscious, and two types of AI. In short, they are dream songs. I've kept dream journals since 2002. I use ChatGPT to select the dreams and create genre prompts. I edit the lyrics and genres myself to get things right and I use Suno to make the songs. I've created about 20-30 songs per year of dream journaling. I'll slowly be adding them here. I hope you enjoy!

Lyrics:

[Intro: low rumbling drums, eerie guitar tremolo, soft wind FX]

Midnight in Mason,
but the world didn’t feel like home.

[Verse 1: hushed vocals, fingerpicked guitar, growing tension]

I’m in the front room
of the house that’s supposed to be Mom’s—
same bones, wrong shape,
like a memory drawn in the dark.
I crawl into bed
and the window creaks a warning,
a cold breeze slipping in
from the shadowed lawn.

Then—
tap. tap.
Heavy as a hammer.
I look up…
Grizzly paws
pressing against the glass like a whisper of doom.
The window’s cracked open;
one push, it’ll slide.
I stumble out,
heart beating like a drum in a parade gone wrong.

[Pre-Chorus: swelling strings, anxious pacing]

I slam the window shut,
call out to Mom in the hall—
“Don’t go outside,
don’t go outside at all.”

[Chorus: full band rise, dramatic drums, harmonies]

Escaped animals roam through the night,
tigers in the street beneath the pale porch light.
Polar bears wandering where no cold wind blows,
and a family pets a tiger like it’s one of their own.
Oh, the world’s gone sideways, but no one seems to know—
escaped animals under the moon’s strange glow.

[Verse 2: steady indie-folk build, mandolin & deep drums]

I step outside
with fear tucked under my ribs,
because someone has to know
how wrong all of this is.
The park is crowded—
midnight families laughing,
kids stroking a tiger’s flank
like it’s a neighbor’s dog.

Giraffes drift past
like walking question marks,
peacocks fan their feathers
in the glow of parking-lot arcs.
I dial animal control,
but I’m calling the wrong number—
woke some poor soul
in the middle of their slumber.

“Sorry—sorry.”
Try again, get the operator.
Explain the bears, the tigers,
the cracked-open equator.

[Chorus: bigger, wider, drums echo, brass added softly]

Escaped animals roam through the night,
tigers in the street where no tigers should bite.
Polar bears pacing by the children at play,
as the town wanders dreamlike through a creature ballet.
Oh, the world’s unbuttoned and nobody knows—
escaped animals under the moon’s weird glow.

[Bridge: soft piano, weary tone, dreamlike imagery]

I return home
to the back-shower room—
water hissing on
like a ghost in the gloom.
The Kramers come home
and Sue spots a light;
asks why I’m wearing one shoe
in the dead of night.

Dropped the other croc
by the shower stall,
but I promise her
I’m not haunting her wall.

[Verse 3: tempo softens, warm horns + low synth pads]

Then the rich neighbors show up,
their porch glowing blue;
they wave me over
like this is all normal to do.
Two cocktails, blueberries floating—
I’m trying to leave,
but they keep pouring.
They hand me airline headphones
and I question the fate
of one-time-use plastics
in this strange estate.

A bartender in a Spartan hat
with crab-like hands—
I misread the logo,
he says it marks their champions.
A donor’s gift,
a tour souvenir—
a symbol of triumph
in a night full of fear.

[Final Chorus: triumphant yet eerie, Arcade Fire-style swell]

Escaped animals roam through the night,
grizzlies at the window with the hunger of fright.
Polar bears drifting through a Midwestern town,
tigers petted gently by folks who should back down.
Oh, the world’s come unhinged, and it quietly shows—
escaped animals under the moon’s strange glow.

[Outro: tremolo guitar + distant animal calls, slow fade]

Back in the quiet,
I close my eyes slow—
wondering which part of the night
wasn’t ready to go.