Song bewailing America's most heinous sin - partial birth abortion...

Write to Life

A folk dance tune celebrating a celebratory dance before the Lord of His redeemed.

Dance of the Redeemed

David danced in the street
We'll ask, knock and seek
Lift our hands up and sing
And do the dance of the redeemed

With one accord in heaven's love
We'll store our treasure up above
We'll take the hands of the King
And do the dance of the redeemed

Things aren't always what they seem
Whether they're seen or unseen
On His word we'll learn to lean
We'll see visions,n dream dreams

David danced in the street
We'll ask, knock and seek
Lift our hands up and sing
And do the dance of the redeemed

On his plans we can lean
We can stand beneath His wings
We'll take the hands of the King
And do the dance of the redeemed

Cursed is he who hangs on a tree
His side was burst as He bleeds
He took the curse for you n me
He'll return on a white steed

David danced in the street
We'll ask, knock and seek
Lift our hands up and sing
And do the dance of the redeemed

On his plans we can lean
We can stand beneath His wings
We'll take the hands of the King
And do the dance of the redeemed

Oh death, where is thy sting
To the rugged cross I'll cling
You're my Lord and my king
And your anthem I will sing

He warned us in advance
Giving us one last chance
For our filthy rags to be cleaned
In the dance of the redeemed 

The Dance of the Redeemed

Why certain people turn to guns when they can't win the public debate.

When Bullets Speak

Extrapolating between the Charlie Kirk assassination and the movie Snake Eyes.

Dancing in Deception

Let Me Introduce You to Him

Similar names, similar dates
Similar days, similar fates
Both blown apart in plain daylight
Life imitates art, or art imitates life

Both guys shot in the neck
On the left side of the head
Blamed on the right and the radical left
Both lost their life, both tragically dead

Two fight scenes, one real, one pretend
September tragedy strikes again
Art imitates life or so we may surmise
Is this real life -- or is this Snake Eyes?

You've got to read the plot and script
And you can't quit seeing parallels
A magazine cast a spell IRL
Mag and the storm named Jezebel

Similar names, similar dates
Similar days, similar fates
Both blown apart in plain daylight
Life imitates art, or art imitates life

Both disasters took place in mid-September
Both had Kirk in their names as you'll remember
Both murders staged, covered up and censored
Although the movie paraded no transgenders

Two fight scenes, one real, one pretend
September tragedy strikes again
Art imitates life or so we may surmise
Believe everything -- but your eyes

It's probably just simple coincidence
But some of us ain't sittin' on the fence
Both blown apart in plain daylight
Life imitates art, or art imitates life

It's probably just, simple coincidence
But some of us, ain't sittin' on the fence
Art imitates life or so we may surmise
Is this real life -- or is this Snake Eyes?

Two fight scenes, one real, one pretend
September tragedy strikes again
Art imitates life or so we may surmise
Believe everything -- but your eyes

Snake Eyes

Before Caucasians laid their eyes on this land
There were many tribes of Native Americans
Some followed the bison and spied out the land
Some never survived the invading white man

Apache, Comanche, Chickasaw and Choctaw
Shawnee, Pawnee, Cherokee and Chippewa
Seminole, Cheyenne, Creek and Iroquois
Had their own chiefs, rituals n spiritual laws

Sure there'd been fights between some of the tribes
Then the white man offered them trinkets and bribes
When the railroad came, it changed their way of life
With the bison gone, how were they to survive?

[Instrumental break]

So we rounded them up without hesitation
Many died from the bug or from starvation
Traipsed through the mud to the reservation
If they didn't budge, they faced extermination

The civilized tribes tried assimilation
They lived and died in the Indian nation
The trail of tears was their forced migration
It nearly resulted in their obliteration

[Instrumental break]

We sent their kids to boarding schools
So they would learn our laws and rules
They bent and lost their customs and culture
We descended on 'em like a bunch of vultures

They'd lost their main food, the American bison
So they were approved for a gambling license
What had once been only in Vegas and Reno
They now owned their own mega-casinos

[Instrumental outro]

We rounded them up without any hesitation
Many died from the bug or from starvation
Traipsed through the mud to the reservation
If they didn't budge, they faced extermination

The civilized tribes tried assimilation
They lived and died in the Indian nation
The trail of tears was their forced migration
It nearly resulted in their obliteration

Indian Nation

Who are you when they're suin' you?
Accusin' you? Tryna ruin you?
Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?
Who ya gonna choose? The reds or the blues?

Is it fair to say, there'll be hell to pay?
They hesitate to fix the mess they made
I hate to say it but they fabricated a candidate
That can't articulate what she wants to legislate

I won't be licked or go down in defeat
They've got six ways from Sunday they can cheat
What they sow, they're bound to reap
Sleepy Joe is sound asleep!

I'm their worst nightmare
Bullets burst right in the air
But they missed me by a hair
Lifted my fist high in the air
And cried "fight, fight, fight!"

Got caught in the cross hairs
Fought lawsuits and law fare
Would've cooked my goose if I hadn't moved
Right then and there...

What might you do, if they libeled you?
Said things you knew weren't Bible truth?
Your wife's handbags they rifled through?
Tried to gag and stifle you?

Would you call the law or see the sheriff?
Impose embargoes, fees or tariffs?
Carry the load alone or share it?
Or call for Amy Coney Barrett?
If they bribed you, would you take the carrot?
If they caught you, would you be embarrassed?
Would you succeed based on your own merit?
If they cheated, would you grin and bear it?

Or would you be their worst nightmare
Courage like this, is quite rare
If you fought, would you fight fair?
Or lift your fist high in the air...

And cry fight, fight, fight
The country lies in disrepair
We need to fight, if we dare
Or we'll be eatin' prison fare

I ain't the first and I sure won't be the last
Need to keep alert and stick with the facts
Sure, there's perks, but, work the math
We're on the verge of complete collapse

Now's the time, we need to be prepared
Don't be frightened, don't be scared
Just lift your fist high in the air
And cry fight, fight, fight
Cuz I'm their worst nightmare

[Instrumental]

Their Worst Nightmare

Before the day January Sixth
She liked to play politics
She was shy and so was I
I didn't know she was a spy

Fang Fang, she got me crowned
Fang Fang, she was quite endowed
Fang Fang, like to play around
Fang Fang, she left without a sound

An easy mark, an eager chap
Caught in a Chinese honey trap
Fund-raised for my campaign
They thought I was insane

Fang Fang, she slept with me
Fang Fang, re-elected me
Fang Fang, she laid me down
Fang Fang, played me for a clown

I stayed on intel anyway
Nancy wanted me to stay
Now I'm off and I know why
Why'd I try to boff a spy?

Fang Fang, liked to hang around
Wouldn't take no hand-me-downs
Fang Fang, ran out of town
Guess I was out of bounds

Now she's gone, to the naked eye
She didn't even say goodbye
She was hot and so was I
Scared off by the FBI

Fang Fang, left without a sound
Fang Fang, wonder where she's bound?
Fang Fang, did she come unwound?
Fang Fang, where can she be found?

Before the, quote, "insurrection"
She won votes for my re-election
Spied on me with no detection
I need to go to confession

Fang Fang, she got me crowned
Fang Fang, time came around
Fang Fang, FBI cracked down
Fang Fang, she left without a sound

I tried to get Trump disqualified
Looks like he's finally turned the tide
The truth is, he was in our way
All the hoopla was a power play

Fang Fang, was out of town
Her plane, it hit the ground
Fang Fang, was never found
Fang Fang, her people shot her down

Fang Fang

The Lord is my shepherd
I shall not want
To Him I'm special
His chosen vessel

I walk through the valley
Of the shadow of death
My faith may be feeble
But I'll fear no evil

Cuz I'm His sheep
The sheep - of His pasture
He'll keep - me from disaster
He's my king - and my master

I felt I'd been cursed
So I gave Him control
Said seek His kingdom first
So I gave Him my soul

I wanted Him to know
When no one's around
That I am - on the level
Not defiant, not a rebel

Cuz I'm His sheep
The sheep - of His pasture
He'll keep - me from disaster
He's my king - and my master

Oooh, oooh, he's knocking at your door
Let Him in and make Him your Lord
He'll forgive you of your sin
So give your love to Him
And run, run, run to Him

He makes me lie down
In pastures green
His rod and his staff
They comfort me

We've fallen asleep
But just like Jacob
We need to wake up
He won't forsake us
He died to save us

I'm His sheep
The sheep - of His pasture
He'll keep - me from disaster
He's my king - and my master

Oooh, oooh, he's knocking at your door
Let Him in and make Him your Lord
He'll forgive you of your sin
So give your love to Him
And run, run, run to Him

I'm His Sheep

Songwriter. Storyteller. Sound pioneer, Stan Countz is a genre-bending songwriter with over 300 original songs under his belt — a true craftsman of lyric and melody. From his debut track “Those Hap Happy Days” in 2005, a nostalgic tribute to the golden era of the ’50s and ’60s, Stan has built a musical legacy rooted in meaning, melody, and message.

Writing under the moniker Stan and Be Counted, he stands tall in the world of music as both a creator and a voice of purpose. His catalog spans a kaleidoscope of genres — from contemporary Christian rock and gospel to EDM, country pop, blues, R&B, hip hop, folk, and beyond. Each song is a reflection of his passion for storytelling and his desire to uplift, challenge, and connect.

Whether crafting soul-stirring love ballads, foot-tapping jingles, or heart-pounding hard rock anthems, Stan brings a rare blend of versatility, depth, and soul to every track. He doesn't just write songs — he writes moments you can feel.

Stan Countz is more than an artist — he’s a movement. A call to stand... and be counted. He is a prolific lyricist and lives in Denison, Texas with his artist/photographer wife. 

If you're an Artist looking for a song for the next hit, send me a message. Who knows, I may have a gem and a #1 hit for us both!