What’s Right, What’s Left? | Epic Gothic Soul & Ethereal Folk Hymn

Although I'm an aged marketing major, I have never been able to sell myself... ChatGPT recommended the following for this video: "Dive into the hauntingly beautiful world of 'What’s Right, What’s Left?'—a cinematic journey through epic gothic soul, ethereal folk, and reflective hymn-like melodies. This emotionally charged ballad explores the depths of conflict, introspection, and what remains when all is said and done. Perfect for fans of soulful vocals, rich acoustic textures, and atmospheric soundscapes. Listen, reflect, and let the music guide you through the echoes of what’s left."

I used ChatGPT4o, Suno, Plazzmapunk, Grok2, and Claude to create this. Plazmapunk and Grok were really leaned on here for image and video generation. I have always been enamored/fearful of Klimt. I hope that the inspiration from his painting worked here for you. ChatGPT4o seems to be best for me to "bounce my lyrics off" of right now...

Lyrics:
Verse 1:
You smile, explaining right, like you always do,
Unaware this time, I’ve got a truth for you.
First, you laugh, thinking I joke,
But words carry weight, and mine provoke.
And as I speak, your eyes narrow cold and sharp,
My truth meets walls when you see it’s no larp.
I say what you're forever bound to defy,
Here, our friendship starts to liquefy.
Now nothing feels right, and I’m unsure what's left,
Your silence calls, and my heart's adrift.

Chorus:
How did we get from there to here?
Our words hold weight, they've cut and seared.
Your spite’s impaled my heart—turned my day to night.
Don’t you see I can like you, even when I’m sure I’m right?
Does it matter who was right, if nothing’s left?

Verse 2:
My voice rises, though I think I'm composed,
Now, we're coiling, with tensions exposed.
Nothing grinds more than your stubborn slight,
To be liked, you must always be right.
Our voices clash, venom thick in the air,
And I wonder how we got from there to here.
We’re yelling now, caught up in an emotional shift,
'Til someone steps in, and one is left.

Chorus:
How did we get from there to here?
Our words hold weight, they've cut and seared.
Your spite’s impaled my heart—turned my day to night.
Don’t you see I can like you, even when I’m sure I’m right?
Does it matter who was right, if nothing’s left?

Verse 3:
How can our divide make us so unable
To sit and talk at the same table?
But it won't bear the press of our clash—
Each side's weight enough to cause its crash.
I like you still even after our fight.
Do you hate me now, after this senseless flap?
Our bond's been torched by dragons on our map.
Is it because I still think I was right?
Oh, my heart's pierced by your spite,
And my mind's left with a mournful song.
Jailed by left and right, beyond right or wrong.
Our tribes have torn us, left our friendship awry,
Star-crossed friends under a serpentine sky,
Comforted by lies, by dogmas that bind,
Ensnared by gangland libel, labels—lies.

Chorus:
How did we get from there to here?
Our words hold weight, they've cut and seared.
Your spite’s impaled my heart—turned my day to night.
Don’t you see I can like you, even when I’m sure I’m right?
Does it matter who was right, if nothing’s left?

Verse 4:
The coin you're handing me has two sides,
All the same to me, no matter who buys the ride.
Right or left, we're locked in a puppet waltz,
When done, what's left? Only our insistent faults.
You may be right, and I might be too,
But in a world like this, who cares what's true?
Two sides of a coin, one and the same,
We're two pawns sacrificed to a serpent's flame.

Bridge:
You’re not family, but you could be,
If you'd just stop, and listen—try to see.
You don’t have to agree, just understand,
We’re more alike than you know, my friend.
For a moment—I’ll suspend everything—
All beliefs, all I’ve been told to think and believe—
But—but—BUT—would you do right by me and shift?
Will we stand together and save what’s left?

Verse 4:
The coin you're handing me has two sides,
All the same to me, no matter who buys the ride.
Right or left, we're locked in a puppet waltz,
When done, what's left? Only our insistent faults.
You may be right, and I might be too,
But in a world like this, who cares what's true?
Two sides of a coin, one and the same,
We're two pawns sacrificed to a serpent's flame.

Bridge:
You’re not family, but you could be,
If you'd just stop, and listen—try to see.
You don’t have to agree, just understand,
We’re more alike than you know, my friend.
For a moment—I’ll suspend everything—
All beliefs, all I’ve been told to think and believe—
But—but—BUT—would you do right by me and shift?
Will we stand together and save what’s left?