Your Big Day

Delu-Lu for Trade

Take me to Chanel

Fuck This Job

Take Me to Chanel - Electronic

If you don’t get it… congratulations. If you DO? Welcome home.

“Glory Hole” is a campy, chaotic, neon-drenched anthem for the girls, the gays, the theys, and the brave. It’s a pop-confessional fever dream where ice cream parlor innuendo meets nightclub gospel energy. If you’ve ever asked “Do you take Visa?” at the wrong time, or stood in line at the velvet ropes wondering what’s on the other side… this is your song.

A mix of dark pop, comedy, and unhinged nostalgia, “Glory Hole” turns taboo into a toe-tapper and transforms awkward questions into a chorus you’ll be screaming all weekend. It’s messy. It’s camp. It’s catchy. It’s the anthem for people who aren’t afraid to laugh at the things nobody wants to say out loud.

Glory Hole

In the shadowed intersection of opulence and oblivion, Libra Mortem emerges with his debut concept album Scales of Eternity—a haunting sonic tome often whispered as the Library of Mortem, the forbidden book of death rewritten in gold and diamonds.
Forever frozen at 27, the enigmatic zodiac heir L.M. Angelou tips the cosmic scales between life, death, and insatiable wealth. This 10-track journey blends dark pop, gothic glam, and cinematic orchestration into a decadent exploration of immortality's price: from defiant swagger in cheating the reaper to the quiet guilt echoing in gilded cages.
Emerging from velvet-lined coffins draped in Chanel and dirt, Libra Mortem wields golden scales heavy with skulls on one side and glittering riches on the other. The sound is luxurious menace—swelling strings, pulsing synths, and thunderous beats—evoking a graveyard gala where the dead dance in haute couture.
Themes of eternal youth, moral ambiguity, and cosmic judgment unfold across anthems like "Scales of Inheritance," "Dirt and Diamonds," and the introspective outro "The Final Balance." It's an album for those who flirt with mortality while sipping champagne from crystal skulls: darkly humorous, unapologetically extravagant, and eternally captivating.

Heiress Haunt

Window Walk

Sugar Daddy Seance

“Pay to Play” is a darkly glamorous, NSFW deathbed-drip anthem about hustling fate, finessing estates, and turning the reaper into a billable moment. This track blends sinister whispers, icy chants, and braggadocious bars into a story where hospice turns into high finance and good boy couture meets probate court.

It’s camp. It’s explicit. It’s unhinged.
Think American Horror Story x Cardi B x Burial insurance commercial gone WRONG.

The narrator is a “hospice hottie” with black card energy, riding the edge of the grave and the safe—updating wills between moans, arching like a cat for inheritance, and treating the heart monitor like a metronome. Every beep is a payment. Every thrust is a clause. Every flatline? A deposit.

If you love:
	•	🔪 Dark humor & deathbed luxury
	•	📜 Inheritance raps / estate-hustle storytelling
	•	🕯️ Campy erotic horror with couture energy
	•	💳 “Good boy pussy” as a business model

…then this is your song.

A funeral you can twerk at. A will signing you can strut to.
It’s “Pay to Play” — where the reaper waits and the bag doesn’t.

Pay to Play

Memento Mori

Begging After Beep is the album’s final whisper from the grave. A haunting voicemail montage where Libra’s past marks—old, rich, dying men—leave increasingly frantic pleas on her line, wheezing promises of wills, offshore accounts, and “one more night.” Their voices crackle through static, overlapping in a symphony of desperation: “Angel, please call back…”, “The will’s ready, darlin’…”, “I’m waitin’ for you…”. Libra interrupts with cool, teasing whispers (“Patience, love…”, “Too late?”), before sealing the inbox with a commanding “Archived. Next caller.” The track fades into a triumphant cascade of cash-register cha-chings, leaving the listener paranoid that their own phone might ring next. It’s erotic horror wrapped in dark humor—equal parts funny, creepy, and flexing.

Off The Wall Records

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