A haunting, slow-burning indie-folk lament about dreading the holidays when they feel forced, joyless, and achingly lonely. Over sparse acoustic guitar and hushed atmospheres, the narrator confronts empty traditions, ghost-like memories of lost love (or family), and the crushing weight of everyone else’s cheer while quietly falling apart alone. It’s the anti-Christmas song for anyone who’s ever stared at twinkling lights and felt nothing but hollow.

Empty Stockings

“Turkey First, Then Tinsel” is a rowdy, tongue-in-cheek country-rock Thanksgiving anthem that defends the sacred order of holidays while reluctantly admitting defeat to the Christmas creep. With a beer-in-hand grin, it welcomes everyone to the table (vaxxed or unvaxxed), lays down the law on crypto talk, and captures that universal late-November feeling when you’re still carving the turkey but already humming “Jingle Bells” under your breath.

Turkey First, Then Tinsel

"Silent December" is a melancholic indie folk ballad that captures the quiet sorrow of a joyless holiday season, exploring themes of lost Christmas spirit through introspective lyrics about unlit trees, fading traditions, and the search for meaning amid winter's hush.

Silent December

“Never Give Up (Six Years Strong)” is an uplifting, mid-tempo inspirational country (or contemporary Christian) ballad that chronicles a family’s harrowing journey after a loved one suffers a massive stroke six years ago. From the chaos of emergency brain surgery and a month-long hospital stay to the slow, tear-soaked victories of relearning to speak, walk, and live independently, the song honors unbreakable resilience, stubborn hope, and the quiet heroism of never quitting. With heartfelt verses, a soaring chorus, and a triumphant final message—“the story ain’t ended”—it’s a tearjerker celebration of beating the odds and choosing to keep fighting, one hard-won step at a time.

Never Give Up (Six Years Strong)

“Cinnamon & Come” is a slow-burn, filthy gothic folk ballad about Harvey, who is mortal and his debt-collecting witch, Sabrina, who fall recklessly, obsessively in love over thirty nights of rooftop kisses and pharmacy-counter debauchery. It’s equal parts lust-drenched confession and middle-finger to the magical authorities trying to tear them apart, all wrapped in a thick haze of sex, ozone, brown sugar, and defiance. Think Nine Inch Nails meets Fleetwood Mac in a blackout, with a chorus that smells like sweat and spell-smoke long after the last note fades.

Cinnamon & Cum (explicit)

“Where’s the Star Tonight?” is a gentle, modern indie folk-pop Christmas song that quietly asks why the birth of Jesus has been pushed to the background by Santa, shopping, and spectacle. With warm acoustic guitars, soft harmonies, and a touch of atmospheric synth, it contrasts the frenzy of today’s holiday with the humble stable scene, ending on a hopeful note that the real light of Christmas is still waiting to be found. A reflective, heartfelt, and unapologetically centered on the question: “Where is Jesus in all of this?”

Where's the Star Tonight?

"Bring Home the Yule" is a brooding, ritualistic Nordic-folk anthem that resurrects the ancient pagan Yule log tradition. With marching drums, deep chants, and haunting minor melodies, it follows a clan hauling a sacred oak through the snow to burn for twelve nights, driving back winter’s darkness, warding off evil, and coaxing the sun’s return. It feels like a thousand-year-old fireside ceremony you can still smell the smoke from.

Bring Home the Yule

A tender, porch-light country-folk ballad about an elderly couple spending a quiet Christmas alone together for the first time in decades, now that the kids are grown and gone. With warm memories flickering like tree lights, they reflect on burnt turkeys, broken angels, northern lights, and fifty winters shared. It’s a gentle celebration of enduring love that’s moved past the noise of young family holidays into something softer, deeper, and perfectly enough: just the two of them, still each other’s home.

Just Us This Christmas

"No Tomorrow" is a reckless, heart-on-fire anthem about seizing the present like it’s the last night on Earth.

No Tomorrow

A haunting Alpine folk ballad in a slow, minor-key waltz, telling the cautionary tale of Lukas, a wicked boy carried off in Krampus’s sack for a year of punishment in the mountain depths, only to return broken and forever changed. Driven by rattling chains, low drums, and a lone mournful horn, it’s the dark Christmas carol you sing when the fire is low and the wind howls outside, reminding every listener to keep a candle burning on Krampusnacht.

The Ballad of Lukas and the Krampus Sack

“12 Days of Trashmas” is a sarcastic, boom-bap holiday diss track that absolutely torches “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” Over dusty drums and a menacing bassline, the rapper unloads three verses of pure frustration: turning a one-bedroom into a chaotic zoo, getting assaulted by livestock and bagpipes, and finally clowning the song’s 18th-century drinking-game origins and the debunked “secret Catholic code” myth. It’s Run The Jewels energy meets Christmas rage; funny, unapologetic, and guaranteed to make anyone who’s ever suffered through the original scream “facts” on every bar. Perfect for people who love hip-hop and hate that one song that never ends.

The 12 Days of Trashmas

Mercules is a software engineer by day, diving deep into code with unbridled enthusiasm. By night, he's a passionate music lover channeling his daily grind, inner thoughts, fears, bold attitudes, and unfiltered opinions into raw, introspective tracks. If you want to truly know Mercules? Hit play—his music tells the story words alone can't capture.

The 12 Days of Trashmas

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