Mr. Country and Western

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After All the Good Is Gone

It's Only Make Believe

This song is one of two songs surrounding the same story.  Lyrics 99.9% written by human. Vocals and Instrumentals provided by Suno AI.

where-the-angel-sings-part-2.mp3

This one’s a gritty, down-home testament to resilience—where summer nights meet riverbank fires, and a stubborn spirit keeps singing. It’s for the quiet mountain towns that hold their own after the storm, and for anyone who’s ever looked out at a swollen creek and thought, “We’ll be just fine.” Pour yourself a drink, find that Carolina blue sky, and let this one wrap you up like a warm porch light.

Written and produced by Brook Stanley. Music created and performed by Hal Bishop and The Scout Line—a music group created in the studio by TopMedia.ai, blending real Southern storytelling with AI music tools.


#country, #americana, #southern, #storytelling, #acoustic, #folk, #roots, #summer, #Carolina, #nostalgia, #community, #resilience, #bluegrass, #mountainmusic, #river, #storm, #porchlight, #whiskey, #summernights, #quiettowns

IF THE CREEK DON T RISE

Well I woke up this mornin’, in my boots and my jeans,
Spillin’ beer on my dog, watchin’ NASCAR on the screen.
My truck don't run, but she still looks mean,
Got a lift kit higher than my self-esteem.

'Cause every song's 'bout trucks, dogs, and beers,
Some heartbreak tale that'll bring ya to tears.
If I sing 'bout my ex and a rodeo clown,
Y’all better know it's goin’ straight to number one now.
Yeah, it’s a country song, makin’ fun of itself—
Somebody hand me my belt buckle from the shelf.

Mama left Dad for a man in a band,
With a mullet so fine and a spray-tanned hand.
Now he sings sad songs with a fake southern twang,
He’s from New Jersey, but he still says "dang."

'Cause every song's got banjos and trains,
Moonshine stills and some made-up pains.
I lost my job and my last two teeth,
But my Spotify’s gold and my boots still squeak.
Yeah, it’s a country song that don’t need no help,
Just three chords and some barbecue smells.

We write hits ‘bout fishin’, and girls named Jolene,
Even though my bass boat ain't been out since '13.
If rhyming “beer” with “deer” is a sin,
Then Lord, I'm goin’ back to Nashville again!

Now I’m singin’ ‘bout singin’ 'bout trucks and dogs,
And my cousin Earl who lives in a bog.
If this don’t chart, then the world’s gone wrong,
‘Cause it’s the most country of any country songs.
Yeah, I'll made a fortune pokin’ fun at myself—
Now my gold record’s sittin’ on my taxidermy shelf.

So if you hear this on the radio late one night,
Just remember: I'm wrong... but I'm redneck right.

After All the Good Is Gone

Conway Twitty