robotsonic1001
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    Flash that buttery gold Jittery zeitgeist, wither by the watering hole, what a patrol What are we to Heart Huckabee, art fuckery suddenly Not enough young in his lung for the water wings Colorfully vulgar poacher, out of mulch Like, "I'ma pull the pulse out a soldier and bolt" Fine, sign of the time we elapse When a primate climb up a spine and attach Eye for an eye, by the bog life swamps and vines They get a rise out of frogs and flies So when a dogfight's hog- tied prize sort of costs a life The mouths water on a fork and knife And the allure isn't right

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    More prompts from robotsonic1001

    cinematic, richard hammond, , standing next to burning wrecked car<lora:Richard_Hammond_XL:0.75> <lora:sdxl:0.6>
    <lora:Battlefield ww1 style:0.65> battlefield ww1 style, cinematic shot, dawn, natural lighting, distant explosions, in the foreground a tired british soldier, take cover , tired expression, thin man, young man
    cinematic, richard hammond, , standing next to burning wrecked car, formula 1 car <lora:Richard_Hammond_XL:0.6> <lora:mclaren_m14a_SDXL-prodigy-LoRA-v06:0.7>
    angry gangster ready to headbut HBB cinematic, (guy ritchie movie)
    <lora:cyberpunk style v2:0.7> photo, film still, cinematic, <lora:JJsCyberPunkCity_XL:0.7> cyberpunk city off center in the foreground, a human rebel, a grizzled man with short, asymmetric haircut, unshaven, athlete physique, wearing leather biker jacket with neon luminous stitching, baggy tactical camo pants, holds a futuristic plastic assault rifle gun, standing close to the camera, focused in his face, in the background is a rainy, dystopian city street, retrofuturistic, there are neon signs and TV screens with advertisements, there is a hazy smoky atmosphere, a tense scene, <lora:Perfect Hands:0.3> perfect, hands <lora:Assault_rifle:0.7> holding, rifle, gun <lora:Split Lighting style v2:0.5> <lora:Split Diopter style:0.7> split, diopter, style split image focus, split lighting, dark foreground, bright background
    When you were here before Couldn't look you in the eye You're just like an angel Your skin makes me cry You float like a feather In a beautiful world I wish I was special You're so fucking special
    photo, telephoto, journalist style, an obese man, riding on a giant squid, along a busy street in new york
    Sucker love is heaven sent You pucker up, our passion's spent My heart's a tart, your body's rent My body's broken, yours is bent Carve your name into my arm Instead of stressed, I lie here charmed 'Cause there's nothing else to do Every me and every you
    Now, if you never had a day a snow cone couldn't fix You wouldn't relate to the rogue vocoder blitz How he spoke through a NoDoz motor on the fritz ‘Cause he wouldn't play rollover fetch like a bitch And express no regrets, though he isn't worth a homeowner's piss To the jokers who pose by the glitz Fine, sign of the swine in the swarm When a king is a whore who comply and conform Miles outside of the eye of the storm With a siphon to lure out a prize and award While avoiding the vile and bizarre that is violence and war True blue triumph is more Like, "Wait, let it snake up out of the centerfold Let it break the walls of Jericho, ready go" Sat where the old, cardboard city folk Swap tales with heads, like every other penny throw
    <lora:Assault_rifle:0.7> <lora:Joel_Kinnaman:0.7> Joel_Kinnaman, aged 90, grey hair, long grey beard, holding gun, wearing white spacesuit, inside mars base, future space station, cinematic, determined expression, white assault rifle, gun painted white (pirate flag arm patch), gloves, shallow depth of field
    photo of a <lora:Richard_Hammond_XL:0.75>, richard_hammond, the hamster, standing in front of a crashed and burning racecar, with a nervous smile
    It's on America's tortured brow That Mickey Mouse has grown up a cow Now the workers have struck for fame 'Cause Lennon's on sale again See the mice in their million hordes From Ibiza to the Norfolk Broads Rule Britannia is out of bounds To my mother, my dog, and clowns
    <lora:Flamethrower:1> flamethrower object <lora:Cinematic ww2 style:0.5> , ww2, style <lora:Cinematic Film:0.5> cinematic, film, style, (steve mcqueen:1.3) cowboy shot from low angle, front view, face on, as an american GI in world war 2, shoots flames from a flamethrower towards the camera, on a pacific island (at night:1.2) (dark night) , illuminated by the flames, film still for war movie, cigarette in mouth, tough expression, wearing helmet with netting, dirty uniform, rolled up sleeves,
    Photo, 1970s, kodachrome, cinematic, film grain, ziggy stardust, dressed as an astronaut, decending from retrofuturistic spaceship
    <lora:cyberpunk style v2:0.7> photo, film still, cinematic, <lora:JJsCyberPunkCity_XL:0.7> cyberpunk city off center in the foreground, a human rebel, a grizzled man with short, asymmetric haircut, unshaven, athlete physique, wearing leather biker jacket with neon luminous stitching, baggy tactical camo pants, holds a futuristic plastic assault rifle gun, standing close to the camera, focused in his face, in the background is a rainy, dystopian city street, retrofuturistic, there are neon signs and TV screens with advertisements, there is a hazy smoky atmosphere, a tense scene, <lora:Perfect Hands:0.3> perfect, hands <lora:Assault_rifle:0.7> holding, rifle, gun <lora:Split Lighting style v2:0.5> <lora:Split Diopter style:0.7> split, diopter, style split image focus, split lighting, dark foreground, bright background
    hd, 8k, 4k, photo, (Full body) real, slum, whore, prostitute darkened, dark, alley, alleyway, city, slums, night, dark,
    <lora:ScrapBuiltAI:1> madmax style <lora:cars-000008:0.5> aw0k car, tiltshift photo of a miniature model of a supercharged xb falcon, rusted and scrappy, on the polished mahogany desk of a fancy office in
    hd, 8k, 4k, photo, amsterdam, prostitute, red-light disrtict, night, behind window, booth
    Flash that buttery gold Jittery zeitgeist, wither by the watering hole, what a patrol What are we to Heart Huckabee, art fuckery suddenly Not enough young in his lung for the water wings Colorfully vulgar poacher, out of mulch Like, "I'ma pull the pulse out a soldier and bolt" Fine, sign of the time we elapse When a primate climb up a spine and attach Eye for an eye, by the bog life swamps and vines They get a rise out of frogs and flies So when a dogfight's hog-tied prize sort of costs a life The mouths water on a fork and knife And the allure isn't right
    Breathe with me Breathe the pressure Come play my game, I'll test ya Psychosomatic, addict, insane Breathe the pressure Come play my game, I'll test ya Psychosomatic, addict, insane (Come play my game) Inhale, inhale, you're the victim (Come play my game) Exhale, exhale, exhale Breathe the pressure
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