“Can I Borrow a Whiskey”
Written By: Heather Platania
If these barstools could talk… they’d spill more than the drinks ever did.
This song isn’t about the whiskey.
It’s about the stories soaked into the wood, barstools and walls.
The jukebox that’s heard every heartbreak and all the love stories. The walls that remember every hello and goodbye, and the bar top that’s held more happiness and pain than any glass ever could.
“Can I Borrow a Whiskey” is for the ones who aren’t chasing the buzz —
they’re chasing the memories that live inside the silence of the room.

“Can I Borrow a Whiskey”
Written By: Heather Platania
If these barstools could talk… they’d spill more than the drinks ever did.
This song isn’t about the whiskey.
It’s about the stories soaked into the wood, barstools and walls.
The jukebox that’s heard every heartbreak and all the love stories. The walls that remember every hello and goodbye, and the bar top that’s held more happiness and pain than any glass ever could.
“Can I Borrow a Whiskey” is for the ones who aren’t chasing the buzz —
they’re chasing the memories that live inside the silence of the room.

“BlackJack!” is a high-stakes love song about betting big on someone worth the risk. Wrapped in casino imagery and card-table metaphors, this sultry anthem captures that rare feeling when love doesn’t just show up—it hits you like a winning hand.

Born from heartbreak and resilience, the narrator has been dealt bad hands before—relationships that folded, hearts that didn’t hold. But just when she thought she was out of the game, someone walked in and changed everything. Not a slow burn. Not a maybe. A Blackjack. Instant, undeniable, game-changing love.

Each verse builds that tension: the chips he lost, the bets he regrets. And then, boom—that winning card hits. “You hit me with that BLACKJACK!” becomes a triumphant release, a euphoric declaration that real love doesn’t just heal—it rewrites the odds.

Inspired by one of my ex-daughters-in-law. I am an old dog trying to teach myself new tricks. This song incorporates some melody writing tactics I learned from a Jason Blume course. Other things I was aiming for in this song: To use some of the (to me) odd melodic intervals I hear in today's country songs and limit the number of chord changes, focusing on the rhythm of the song.

A wild love song about someone who is obsessed with the green-eyed woman.

“The Crack of the Bat” is about the echoes that never fade — the sound of a game, a voice that guided you, and a love that still shouts your name long after they’re gone.

Still Breathing (Buried Me Alive) was written from the sting of voices that told me I was no good, unlovable, and as good as dead to God. Those words buried me long before the grave ever could. But the breath in my lungs became proof that they were wrong, that I was still alive, still seen, and still loved. The song is both a defiance and a prayer: every inhale saying, “I’m still here,” every exhale declaring, “God’s love never left me.”

Written for first responders who shoulder heavy burdens but often have to delay their own grief. It’s about the unseen weight of the job, the silence in the waiting, and finding strength when the heart can’t catch up.

Born from both my work as a paramedic and struggles in my personal life, this song wrestles with trying to hold everything together. Duct tape and rescue ropes can’t fix what only God’s mercy can carry.