A song about survival when life leaves no margin.
This track follows two lives at their lowest — a mother fighting exhaustion and responsibility, and a man carrying loss through broken streets — bound by the same quiet refusal to give up. It’s not about winning big or escaping fast, but about standing back up when everything hurts.

“From the Bottom” is a reminder that strength isn’t loud, hope isn’t easy, and rising doesn’t always look heroic. Sometimes it looks like showing up again tomorrow, carrying the weight, bearing the scars, and still reaching for something better.

From The Bottom

A playful, high-energy holiday anthem that turns Christmas cheer all the way up.
This track is pure festive fun — glittering outfits, confident curves, and dance-floor energy wrapped in tinsel and twinkle lights. It’s celebratory, tongue-in-cheek, and fully committed to shaking up tradition with humor and style.

“Deck the Donk” is about confidence, joy, and letting the season sparkle a little louder.
No subtlety. No shame. Just lights, movement, and unapologetic holiday swagger. 🎄✨🍑

Deck The Donk

A quiet, reflective song about memory, love, and the way a home holds on to the people who shaped it.
“This Is My Christmas Home” lingers in the stillness after the noise fades — stockings that no longer fill, laughter that echoes softly, and decorations that carry more meaning than sparkle.

It’s a portrait of staying rooted while the world moves on, of grief wrapped in gratitude, and of finding comfort in familiar lights even when loss is present.
This song is for anyone who keeps Christmas alive not out of tradition, but because it’s where their heart still knows how to rest.

Christmas Home

An intimate, cinematic love song about distance, devotion, and endurance.
This track leans into the idea that even when the world feels fragile — when skies fold, oceans rise, and storms rage — connection remains within reach. It’s about chasing a presence that feels eternal, trusting that love can outlast fear, time, and collapse.

“Forever’s Not Too Far” is quiet strength wrapped in melody — a reminder that closeness isn’t measured in miles, but in persistence, memory, and the willingness to keep reaching when everything else falls away.

Forever's Not Too Far

A dark, razor-edged warning about the damage words can do when they’re used carelessly—or maliciously.
This song lives in the space where secrets become weapons, smiles hide intent, and truth gets buried under noise. Every line cuts with intention, exposing how quickly trust can burn and how loudly consequences echo once something is said out loud.

“Loose Lips” is about fallout—bridges burned, lives altered, and the irreversible cost of speaking without wisdom.
Sharp. Tense. Uncomfortable on purpose.

Loose Lips

A stripped-down reflection on faith lived out loud — not preached, not posted, not performed.
This song reframes what it means to follow Jesus by pulling the focus away from stages, symbols, and spotlight, and placing it squarely on quiet, inconvenient love. The kind no one claps for. The kind no one sees.

It’s about sweat instead of robes, service instead of sermons, and compassion that shows up in the cracks of real life — diapers changed, meals shared, dignity restored without a name attached.

This track isn’t asking who Jesus is in theory.
It’s asking who we become when we love like him in practice.

What It Means To Be Jesus

A bold, metaphor-rich declaration of faith that reframes devotion through the language of leadership and authority.
This song imagines Jesus not as a distant symbol, but as the steady hand guiding every decision — the one drafting the map when the way is unclear, signing peace into places of inner war, and leading with mercy instead of fear.

“President Jesus” blends reverence with modern imagery, expressing trust, surrender, and allegiance of the heart rather than politics or power. It’s about choosing guidance over chaos, truth over doubt, and love as the ultimate authority.

Not a campaign.
Not a system.
A confession of who runs the show when everything else falls apart.

President Jesus

A raw, irreverent revival story about faith breaking out where it wasn’t supposed to.
This song captures the moment when belief stops being polite, quiet, or comfortable — when something real rises up and demands to be spoken, even if it shocks the room.

It’s messy. It’s loud. It’s holy in a way that doesn’t ask permission.
What starts as a confession turns into a fire — choirs ignited, sermons derailed, and a congregation reminded that redemption isn’t always dressed in church clothes.

This isn’t rebellion for shock value.
It’s defiance aimed straight at darkness, wrapped in gospel energy, laughter, and release.
Sometimes praise sounds like hallelujah.
Sometimes it sounds like telling the devil exactly where he stands.

Fuck The Devil!

Vibrant, rhythmic, and irresistibly sensual — “Captured” pulses with Latin-infused pop energy and the intoxicating pull of love that feels more like surrender. Acoustic guitars dance with tropical synths as smooth male vocals carry the tension between passion and captivity.

It’s a song about giving in — not because you have to, but because you want to.

Captured

A slow-burn, late-night song built on tension, chemistry, and surrender.
This track lives in the space where time stretches, the world fades out, and two people move closer without rushing the moment. It’s about anticipation more than action — the quiet intensity before everything breaks open.

“Nothin’s Goin’ Down Till We Come Undone” captures that edge where walls fall, fear dissolves, and connection becomes unavoidable.
Velvet skies, heavy beats, breath-to-breath closeness — this one is meant to be felt in the dark, with the volume up and everything else turned off.

Till We Come Undone

Soul with grit. Truth in stereo. A voice that wrestles with faith, freedom, love, and everything in between. Every lyric’s a confession, every song’s a mirror.

From The Bottom

JMan7511

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