Hall of Fame

This is a cautionary tale about how certain guys and girls seem flashy and attractive but they have that their views and pack their powder with no substance in the rest of the body

Bottle Rocket

Fuck This Wrench

A Life Song About NEVER GIVING UP! Since this is my best song yet I am making Downloadable, but you can't say that the content is yours without permission because is unlawful and I have all the necessary rights.

Never Giving Up

This is a song of faith and gratitude, telling the story of a people's journey from despair to divine promise. It celebrates the transformation from darkness to light through worship and thanksgiving. 

#ChristianMusic #FaithJourney #PromisedLand #Worship #Spiritual #Harvest #FirstFruits #DivineLove #Inspiration #Miracles

The Land He Promised.mp3

AI generated country song inspired by a Romeo Santos song.

you’re still mine

RUNNIN' STRONG

Like Lovers

Tell Me Why

Und der Wind pfeift

Late September Heart is a quiet story of almosts — the words not said, the looks held a second too long, the song left hanging in the air. Set against a backdrop of worn leather booths and late-night jukebox hum, this track leans into a slow-burning country-blues feel. It’s the kind of song that doesn’t raise its voice, but lingers like smoke — steady, honest, and full of the things we don’t say. For nights when something stirs, even in silence. For what almost was.

Late September Heart erzählt leise von allem, was fast passiert wäre – Worte, die in der Kehle stecken bleiben, Blicke, die zu lange halten, ein Song, der in der Luft hängen bleibt. Der Sound: rau und warm, wie eine Jukebox in einem Diner kurz vor Feierabend. Country-Blues in seiner stillsten Form – ehrlich, zurückgenommen, und voller unausgesprochener Dinge. Für Nächte, in denen etwas bleibt. Auch wenn nichts geschieht.

Late September Heart

No One Tells You When It Starts is about the kind of change that doesn’t make a sound. A street corner, a faded memory, a version of yourself that never quite arrived — this is a story told in fragments. It’s not about the big moments, but the quiet unraveling of what once felt permanent. Some things slip away without warning. And some words stay stuck inside, long after it’s too late to say them.



No One Tells You When It Starts erzählt von den Veränderungen, die still passieren. Eine Straßenecke, eine Erinnerung, eine Version von dir selbst, die nie ganz geworden ist – dieser Song spricht von Momenten, die niemand bemerkt, und doch alles verändern. Nicht das Große, sondern das leise Verschwinden steht im Mittelpunkt. Manches geht, bevor man es merkt. Und manches bleibt ungesagt, bis es zu spät ist.


No one tells you when it starts

Berlin is not a love song.
It’s a memory you can’t hold,
a spark that burned too fast,
a night that felt more real than most days.

This track captures the wild pulse of a moment —
when someone walks into your life like a storm
and leaves before the sky clears.

You were Berlin.
Not the city. The feeling.


Berlin ist kein Lovesong.
Es ist eine Erinnerung, die man nicht festhalten kann,
ein Funke, der zu schnell verglüht,
eine Nacht, die echter war als viele Tage.

Dieser Track fängt den rohen Puls eines Moments ein –
wenn jemand wie ein Sturm ins Leben rauscht
und wieder verschwindet, bevor der Himmel aufreißt.

Du warst Berlin.
Nicht die Stadt. Das Gefühl.

LYRICS

Berlin

You said, “Don’t ask me where I’m from”
Lit a smoke and bit your thumb
Your laugh was sharp, your eyes were wired
A fuse that never once got tired

You moved like you were on parole
Stole my drink, then stole my soul
Said, “This night’s got teeth, don’t blink”
And vanished faster than I think

You were Berlin
Not the city, but the sin
Midnight cigarette grin
Chaos under my skin
You were Berlin
No beginning, no win
Just a storm I ran into
And hoped would never end

We broke a lock to climb a roof
Screamed the stars like it was proof
That some things shine when they’re about to fall
And some don’t need a name at all

Your boots kicked sparks, your voice cut air
You kissed like truth, but didn’t care
Said, “Nothing’s real that lasts too long”
Then vanished in a fading song

You were Berlin
Not the skyline, but the spin
A dare wrapped in a hymn
No mercy, only grin
You were Berlin
No reason, no skin
Just a heat that pulled me in
And left me high as sin

And if you vanish in the morning—
Then Berlin was real for a night

Berlin

The ladies all say I'm a menace. Yeah, a menace to society. They put me in the book of Guinness, a world record, for the most impropriety. I like love and they like rich, so they threw me, they threw me in a ditch. No stopping an army of exes. They're chasing me back to Texas.

They're Chasing Me Back to Texas

Borrowed Blade is country grit and gospel backbone—songs hammered on an anvil of hard times, small-town faith, and second chances. Fiddle cries, pedal steel sighs, and a low Telecaster growl carry stories of men and women who don’t run from the storm; they ride straight through it. These tracks lean on porch-light prayers, two-lane highways, court dates, and kitchen-table reconciliations. The title speaks to winning with what tried to wound you: you take the lie, break it in half, and use it for a handle. From barroom whispers to Sunday-morning vows, the record moves from hush to holler—brush snare shuffles, train beats, waltzes, and boot-stomp 4/4. This is not revenge; it’s redemption with calluses. Press play when you need courage you can hear and a map you can follow.

Tell Me Why

BRO

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