— Nathan Beard
I write songs about the beautiful, broken, ordinary mess of being alive.
Read the story before you listen. The lyrics are the point — and the story behind each song is what makes it land. Tap any cover below.




The Catalog
Click any cover. Start with the story — then listen with new ears.
Most mornings, I wake up chasing something. The next goal. The next win. The next level. And the crazy part is — I've already lived prayers I once prayed. I've exceeded dreams that used to feel impossible… and somehow my mind still whispers, "Not enough yet."
There's a little bar near Destin, Florida we go to by boat. On the wall is a painting that says, "Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life." Every time we visit, I take a picture of it. I've probably got ten of the exact same photo in my phone. And every time I see those words, it feels like a reset.
Because this moment — not the next one — this one… is my life.
We spend so much time comparing. The older man with money wishing he had youth. The young man wishing he had security. The successful one wishing for more time. The one searching just wanting purpose. Everybody looking somewhere else for "having it all."
This song is my reminder to slow down… to open my eyes… and realize the secret to having it all is knowing you already do.
I hope when you hear it, it feels like a deep breath. Like permission to stop chasing for a second… and just be grateful for right now.
Because this moment — it's your life.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
I wrote this song in 2012 after watching Trace Adkins play at Country Jam in western Colorado.
I was just another guy in the crowd with a beer in my hand. Working hard, raising kids, trying to keep a roof over our heads. Surviving… not really dreaming.
And I remember Trace telling the crowd he never thought he'd be up there. That he didn't start out as some sure thing. He talked about the road it took to get there. And something about that hit me square in the chest.
Because "watching from the stands" isn't just about a concert. It's a metaphor for life. It's that place we stand when we're too afraid to try. Too busy surviving. Too convinced we weren't born with whatever "it" takes.
That night I went home and scribbled this song into a notebook. It was one of the first songs I ever fully wrote. I still didn't pick up a guitar after that — life kept me focused on being a husband and a father first while also keeping my company alive.
But something had shifted.
This song is for the underdog. The ones who weren't handed anything. The ones built by pressure. Built by scars. Built by a relentless, don't-know-how-to-quit spirit.
Some people are born ready.
The rest of us? We're built.
And sometimes all it takes is one moment — one voice — to make you step off the sidelines and into your own story.
So thank you, Trace… for reminding a guy in the stands that he was built for more.
© Nathan Beard / Florida Divine Intervention Songs LLC. All rights reserved.
I've been married to my wife for twenty-four years now.
And over those years, I've watched something happen to a lot of marriages. Somewhere along the way, people stop chasing. They stop dating. They stop noticing. There's this joke that if a man would just treat his wife like she's still his girlfriend, life would be a whole lot sweeter.
But I don't want that to be a joke in our house.
I've never wanted to "arrive" in marriage. I want to keep pursuing her. I want to keep building something new — a new experience, a new memory, a new way to remind her she's still the girl I fell in love with. I work hard every day, not just at my job, but at loving her well. Because love that lasts doesn't happen by accident — it's chosen.
We used to think we'd be cremated one day. Just ashes in the wind. But the more we talked about it, the more we realized… that didn't feel like us. Our whole life has been side by side. Why wouldn't our resting place be the same?
So now we've decided — when that day comes — we'll rest next to each other. Just like we've lived.
This song is about that choice. About never stopping the chase. About loving her today like she's still my girlfriend… and planning to stand next to her for eternity.
Because I'm not done pursuing her.
Not now. Not ever.
© Nathan Beard / Florida Divine Intervention Songs LLC. All rights reserved.
I wrote this song during a season of my life when I started doing something I had avoided most of my life… looking inward.
When I finally could afford to, I started going to counseling. I thought I was going in to fix a few problems… but what actually happened was we started pulling on threads.
Why do I shut down emotionally when things get hard? Why do I crave affirmation so much? Why do I try to fix everything instead of feeling it? Why do I carry shame longer than I should?
We talked about childhood patterns, validation, fear of failure, fear of abandonment… all the stuff most of us spend our lives running from instead of walking through.
But one thing kept showing up in those conversations over and over again.
Fear.
Fear of not being enough. Fear of rejection. Fear of losing love. Fear of being exposed.
And the more I thought about it, the more I realized fear might be the thing that destroys more dreams, more relationships, and more lives than anything else in this world. It convinces people not to try… not to speak… not to love… not to become who they were meant to be.
It builds cages around people who were born to fly.
One night I got home and this thought hit me.
Fear might be the worst four-letter word ever spoken.
But right behind that thought came another realization.
The only thing powerful enough to beat fear… the only thing that actually changes the world…
is another four-letter word.
Love.
And that's where this song came from.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
We were at Red Rocks Amphitheater on a Monday night, listening to one of her favorite country artists.
I had work early the next morning. Real life was waiting — alarm clocks, responsibilities, the whole thing. But we were having way too much fun to care. And she looked so good that I knew right then… there was not going to be any rest that night.
During one of the songs, I had her pulled in close. We were just swaying to the music, and I started noticing the rhythm of our hips moving with the beat — sometimes steady on a four-count, sometimes something slow and easy.
And right there, in the middle of the concert, I pulled my phone out and started typing.
"One brush of your skin and I'm sleepless tonight."
That's really what this song is about. After all these years, she can still flip that switch. Still give me that look that says the night's not over when the encore ends.
She was a little slow to let me share this one… and I don't blame her. It's a little glimpse into our Monday night at Red Rocks.
But I think that's part of a good marriage too — still dancing, still flirting, still losing sleep for each other.
Because sometimes the best nights aren't planned.
They just happen when the music's right… and you're holding the right person.
© Nathan Beard / Florida Divine Intervention Songs LLC. All rights reserved.
This song came from a moment of looking back at the road that got me here.
Like a lot of people, I started life with big, clean dreams. I thought the road ahead would be straight — clear skies, open highway, nothing but forward motion.
But life doesn't usually work that way.
There were some rough seasons… some turns I wish I hadn't taken… and some moments where I felt completely lost. Times where I wondered if I had missed my chance to become the man I hoped to be.
But through all of it, one thing kept me moving.
I never went backwards.
I just kept taking the next step forward.
And somewhere along the way, I realized something powerful — the road I once questioned was the very road that shaped me. The struggles, the failures, the long nights… they were carving something into me I couldn't see at the time.
Now when I look around at my life — the people I love, the man I'm becoming — I honestly don't know how I would have gotten here without that road.
"Road to You" is about that realization.
And if someone listening today feels lost or like they've taken too many wrong turns… I hope this song reminds them that sometimes the hardest road is the one that brings you exactly where you were meant to be.
You just have to keep moving forward.
© Nathan Beard / Florida Divine Intervention Songs LLC. All rights reserved.
This is probably the most personal song I've written.
As my daughter grew up, she started learning that her dad wasn't the perfect man she once thought he was. She saw some of my failures… some of my brokenness… and the ways I had fallen short as a father and as a man.
That's a hard moment for any parent — when your kids begin to see the real version of you.
Around that same time, my life started changing. My faith was growing. I was trying to become a better husband, a better father, and a better man. Not perfect… just better.
One day my daughter sent a text message to my wife. My wife showed it to me later.
It said, "I hope dad stays this way… I want him to go to heaven someday."
That hit me harder than anything anyone had ever said to me.
Not because it was judgment… but because it was hope. A child's love hoping her dad keeps walking the right path.
If you're ever wondering whether you're moving in the right direction in life… hearing something like that from your child will tell you.
"Stay This Way" is about that moment. About the quiet way God can speak through a child. And about a father realizing that the man he's becoming matters more than the man he used to be.
Sometimes the most powerful sermons… come from your own kids.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
I wrote this song laying on the beach.
And if you know me, you know I don't sit still. When we're at the beach, I'm swimming, I'm running, I'm doing something. Stillness has never been comfortable for me.
But that day… I couldn't outrun what was going on inside.
My faith had just started to grow. Before that, I carried a lot of weight — pressure, responsibility, expectation — but I never let it show. I wore strength like armor. I told myself I could handle it. I didn't need help. I didn't need anyone to pray for me.
"I got this."
But the truth was… I didn't.
I let work get in the way of being the husband I wanted to be. The father I wanted to be. The man I wanted to be in my community. I deeply desired to be better — more present, more patient, more grounded — but I was trying to do it all alone.
And as we all learn eventually… we can't.
Writing on that beach that day cleared my head. It was the first time I really let my emotions show in a song. The first time I admitted that strength isn't pretending you're fine — it's admitting you need grace. It's admitting you need prayer.
"Until I Don't" is about that breaking point. The moment pride gives way to honesty.
Because sometimes "I got this" only works… until it doesn't.
And that's where healing begins.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
A buddy of mine has this huge whiskey wall in his man room, and one night I told him he ought to name it "The Whiskey Time Machine"… because every time I walk in there, it's the next morning and I'm waking up somewhere I don't remember laying down.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized whiskey really does have a strange power.
It can take you backward.
One sip and you're twenty-five again. She's still there and for a moment, goodbye hasn't happened yet.
But it can also push you forward. To a place where the edges of her memory are softer. Where the ache isn't as sharp. Where maybe you don't hear her voice every time the room gets quiet.
And I started wondering — what would that do to a man who's lost his love? If he could drink something that let him choose… rewind to the best days, or fast-forward to the healing?
This song isn't really about whiskey.
It's about time. And regret. And the dangerous comfort of living anywhere but the present.
Because sometimes the bottle doesn't numb the pain.
It just moves you around inside it.
And that's the Whiskey Time Machine.
© Nathan Beard / Florida Divine Intervention Songs LLC. All rights reserved.
I wrote this song after witnessing something I had never seen before.
A good buddy of mine from Tennessee lost his dad, and the day before the funeral, the family gathered — not just to grieve — but to dig the grave themselves. They were down in that hole, shovels in hand, preparing the ground where their father would soon rest for eternity.
I stood there with my hat in my hand, not saying much. Just watching.
There were no machines. No rush. Just boots in the dirt, side by side. Stories rising up with the soil. Tears mixing with laughter. It wasn't just digging a grave — it was the last act of love they could give him.
And it struck me how connected they are — to their land, to their community, to each other. These are the same men who make their moonshine from Tennessee spring water, who know the ridgelines like family names. There's something rooted there. Something steady.
That tradition felt sacred. Raw. Honest.
"With Their Own Hands" is about that moment. About the dignity of doing the hard thing yourself. About honoring a man not just with words, but with sweat and soil.
That day changed me.
Now the Tennessee hills feel like a part of me too.
© Nathan Beard / Florida Divine Intervention Songs LLC. All rights reserved.
I've always been the kind of guy who wants to try everything.
Sports, adventures, new hobbies, learning something I've never done before — if there's something happening, I want to be part of it. Life has always felt too short to sit around watching TV when there's a whole world out there to experience.
The problem with that mindset is there's never enough hours in the day. I'd jump from one thing to the next, chasing whatever looked exciting in that moment.
Somewhere along the way I started joking that I probably developed a little bit of adult-onset ADHD… because my mind was always onto the next challenge, the next hobby, the next mountain to climb.
But something interesting happened as life went on.
Out of all the things I've chased — the sports, the adventures, the projects, the passions — one thing slowly became the center of my focus.
My wife.
I've always refused to believe age means you have to slow down. If someone asks me to try something new, the answer is usually yes.
These days that's still true… but the difference is, the thing I want most is to do it with her.
"All In" is really about that realization — that after chasing a thousand things in life, sometimes the greatest adventure is choosing one person and going all in.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
The first time I introduced my wife to my Grandma Ruby was about twenty-five years ago.
Grandma looked at her and said, "Sweetheart, would you like some apple pie?"
My wife politely said no — she wasn't hungry.
Grandma just giggled and said, "Oh honey… it isn't pie. It's cinnamon flavored moonshine."
That was my wife's introduction to Grandma Ruby.
Now the funny thing is, Grandma wasn't a drunk at all — quite the opposite. She just loved life. She was always laughing, always playing games, always having fun.
To this day she's still the best bowler I've ever seen — rolled over a 250 one random family night like it was nothing. She was a great golfer, loved gambling games, and she carried this joy about her that never faded, no matter how old she got.
Toward the end of her life, when she was in hospice, I pulled up a chair beside her and asked her something I'd been wondering.
I said, "Grandma… how old do you feel in your head?"
She laughed and said, "Oh honey, I feel just as young as you. My body just can't keep up anymore."
That moment stuck with me.
Because aging isn't really about the number of years you've lived — it's about the spirit you carry inside.
And I made a promise to myself that day…
No matter how old I get, I'm going to keep a little bit of Grandma Ruby's spirit in me.
That forever-young, cinnamon-moonshine, apple pie mind.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story and streaming links.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song isn't really about being a "bad boy." It's about understanding the machinery behind one.
For a long time, I watched people talk about sin and temptation like they were sudden lightning strikes — like people just wake up one day and decide to wreck their lives. But the older I got, the more I realized that most of the time it's not lightning… it's wiring.
We all carry triggers. Old habits. Old wounds. The things that make our blood run faster when we know we should slow down. Some people chase approval, some chase comfort, some chase chaos. For some of us, the rush itself becomes the addiction — the thrill of pushing the edge just to prove we can.
And the world has a strange way of rewarding that kind of rebellion. The reckless guy often gets the attention. People admire the confidence, the rule-breaking, the danger. From the outside it looks like freedom.
But if you stay on that road long enough, you start noticing the bill that comes due.
"Triggers" is about that tension between the pull of the wild side and the quiet voice that keeps calling you back. The part of us that wants to run toward the cliff… and the part that knows we were meant for something more.
Because sometimes the devil doesn't need to drag you anywhere.
He just waits for the moment when you're the one reaching for the trigger.
And sometimes the biggest victory in a man's life isn't that he never walked that road.
It's that he finally learned how to stop pulling the trigger.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
Before I found Jesus, I thought I could do it on my own. I had to. That’s the only way to understand this song.
When you don’t have anyone to catch you, you stop reaching out your hands. You stop expecting help. You learn to absorb every hit and keep walking. You build yourself into something that doesn’t break — because if you break, nobody’s coming.
That’s where this song lives. Inside that version of me.
The guy who’d been through enough to feel like a fighter. Who’d lost things, rebuilt them, lost them, rebuilt them again. Who treated every storm like a personal opponent because that’s what survival had taught him.
I wasn’t trying to be a tough guy. I was trying to stay upright.
And from the inside, that kind of life feels powerful. You start to convince yourself you’re choosing it. That heaven and hell are both circling you because you matter. That the fire you carry is what makes you dangerous. That the war is yours to own.
It’s a beautiful story to tell yourself when you’re alone.
But here’s what I learned later — that wasn’t strength. That was a man with nowhere to set the weight down.
I keep this song around because it’s part of the road. It’s the version of me that had to be a soldier because nobody had taught him yet that he didn’t have to be.
The line still holds — it all depends on where I let my mind go.
The song was me before I let Jesus lead. Back then I thought the strongest thing a man could do was carry it all alone.
I know better now. The strongest thing I ever did wasn’t standing on my own. It was laying down the weight and following the One who’d already won the war for me.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song came from a trip I took to Wyoming with my Uncle Chris.
He had a band playing a wedding out there and asked if I wanted to come along for the weekend to watch the band and learn how everything worked. I didn't hesitate — I was in.
We got everything set up, and I noticed an extra guitar and stand on stage. Right before the music started, Chris looked over at me and said, "I know you didn't plan on this, but I want you to stand up here and play with us all night."
Now I was nervous as all get out. I didn't know a single person in that room. But I stepped up there anyway.
Truth is… my guitar wasn't even plugged in. But I still had to follow every rhythm, every chord change, and every cue. Standing up there gave me a whole new appreciation for how musicians communicate with each other without saying a word.
The next day we ended up at a place called the Eden Saloon.
It was a real cowboy bar — filled with Wyoming ranchers who looked like they'd just stepped off a horse. We spent the afternoon singing karaoke and stayed way later than we planned.
Todd and Angie own the place and play in Chris' band. They're some of the kindest, most generous people you'll ever meet. Since then they've even come down to Florida and helped record fiddle and vocals on a few songs with us. I realized pretty quickly that Chris' band isn't just a band — it's a family built around music.
So if you ever find yourself in Wyoming… put the Eden Saloon on your bucket list.
Because the spirit of the West is still alive in places like that.
© Nathan Beard / Florida Divine Intervention Songs LLC. All rights reserved.
There's a quiet pressure a lot of men grow up with, even if nobody ever says it out loud.
Be the rock. Be the steady one. Don't break. Don't show the cracks.
In relationships, that often means being the shoreline. The place where the waves hit. The place that holds the line when emotions rise, when old wounds surface, when words come out sharper than they were meant to.
Some days the water is calm. Some days it's beautiful. But other days the wind picks up and the waves keep crashing. And you just stand there… absorbing it.
That's where this song came from.
Not from a perfect relationship. From a real one. From a season a lot of couples go through but almost nobody talks about — the season where you're not really thriving… you're just surviving.
You're still committed. You're still there. You still believe in each other. But every storm leaves a little erosion behind. Every argument, every old scar that gets reopened, every long night where you wonder how you got here.
I knew one thing the whole time though.
I was never going to give up. My shoreline wasn't going to disappear. The foundation was too deep for that.
But there were moments where I wondered something harder…
Not will we make it?
I knew we would.
The real question was…
Will we ever thrive again?
Will we rediscover the joy, the laughter, the light that brought us together in the first place… or will we just learn how to get by?
This song is about standing there as the shore. Holding the line through the storms. Believing the waves will calm.
And hoping that one day the same water that battered the shoreline… will become the tide that brings life back to it.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
You know… one thing I’ve learned about people is that nobody walks into this room with a perfect past.
Every one of us has at least one page in our story that’s torn a little.
Maybe it’s something you did. Maybe it’s something someone did to you. Maybe it’s a mistake, a failure, a season you wish you could erase.
Some people hide those pages pretty well. Some of us… not so much.
But somewhere along the way I realized something that changed the way I look at my own life.
Those broken chapters weren’t written to hold us down. They were written to build us.
Every bruise… every sleepless night… every time you thought you hit rock bottom and wondered if you were ever going to climb out. That wasn’t the end of your story. That was the part where strength was being built.
And the truth is… the most dangerous thing a person can do when life gets hard is keep digging the hole deeper. Running from the truth… blaming the world… making one bad choice after another. Because that hole doesn’t stop.
But the beautiful thing about grace is this: no matter how deep you’ve dug, you can still drop the shovel and start climbing.
So if you walked in here tonight carrying something heavy… something you wish you could undo… something you think disqualifies you from the life you were meant to live… I want you to hear this and believe it.
You might not understand the road yet… but you are exactly where you’re meant to be.
So keep climbing. You’ve got a story to tell.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story and streaming links.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song came from thinking about what real courage actually looks like.
Growing up, I was taught a simple rule: if something's wrong, you stand up. Doesn't matter if you're the smallest guy in the room or the only one willing to say something — you stand up anyway. I remember one moment in eighth grade where that lesson really stuck with me. A kid who had been bullying people finally crossed a line, and I stepped in. I ended up with some bruises, but I also walked away realizing something important: sometimes the right thing costs you something. But doing nothing costs you even more.
As I got older, I noticed something change. A lot of us learned to smooth things over instead of confronting them. We started calling wrong things "normal," and silence became easier than truth. Somewhere along the way, standing up for what's right started to feel uncomfortable — even unpopular.
But when I started looking more closely at the life of Jesus, I realized something powerful: He wasn't passive. Yes, He loved people fiercely. He showed compassion to the broken and grace to the lost. But He also stood firm against hypocrisy, injustice, and lies. He flipped tables when the moment called for it. He didn't water down the truth just to keep the peace.
That's where this song was born.
"Fight Like Jesus Does" isn't about anger or violence — it's about conviction. It's about loving people enough to stand for what's right, even when it's hard. It's about refusing to bow to fear, refusing to stay silent when truth needs a voice.
Because faith isn't meant to be quiet or comfortable.
Sometimes faith means stepping forward, standing tall, and remembering who you were made to be — and realizing you're not standing alone.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song came from watching people and realizing how different we all seem on the surface… but how similar we really are underneath.
I've spent a lot of time around different kinds of people — friends, coworkers, strangers in airports, folks at bars, people in church pews, and people just trying to get through a hard day. And the longer you watch people, the more you notice something interesting. Everyone has their own way of dealing with life.
Some people laugh through pain. Some people cry when they're overwhelmed with gratitude. Some fall in love fast, others guard their hearts for years. Some speak every truth out loud, while others carry it quietly inside.
At first it looks like we're all completely different.
But then you step back and realize something bigger. Beneath all those differences, we're all carrying the same things — hope, fear, love, loss, dreams, regrets. Different expressions… same human heart.
And I started thinking about that old phrase people argue about: Is the glass half full or half empty?
What if we've been asking the wrong question?
What if the real answer is that the glass is already full? Full of experiences, emotions, chances to connect, chances to grow, chances to love the people around us.
"Fill the Glass" is really about living honestly. Laugh when something's funny. Cry when something hurts. Speak your truth. Forgive when you can. Don't hold back the parts of life that make you human.
Because every one of us carries a spark inside.
And when we bring those sparks together… we don't just see the glass.
We light the whole room.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story and streaming links.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story and streaming links.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
For a long time, I believed something a lot of people believe without even realizing it.
That the biggest moments in life happen early.
You fall in love. You get married. You have kids. You build a career. You check the boxes that everyone says define a successful life.
And after a while, you start to think maybe the highlight reel is already behind you.
I remember looking around one day thinking, Well… maybe that was it. Maybe the most meaningful chapters had already happened.
But something interesting started happening as I got older.
When I slowed down just a little, I started noticing things I had rushed past for years. A quiet morning. Coffee on the porch. Watching my kids become people I respect. Laughing with my wife over something small that would've gone unnoticed before.
The moments didn't get bigger.
They got deeper.
And that's when it hit me: gratitude gets louder as you age. Not because life gets easier, but because you finally understand what matters. The little things start hitting you right in the chest.
This song is about that realization — that life doesn't peak in your youth. If you're paying attention, the meaning keeps growing. The appreciation keeps growing.
And sometimes the best part of the journey isn't behind you at all.
Sometimes it's just getting started.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song started with a moment in church that completely flipped the way I thought about faith.
The pastor said something that stuck with me. He said a lot of people walk around believing that Jesus is mostly about "no." No to this. No to that. No to the fun things. No to the things we want. For a lot of people, faith feels like a long list of red lights and warning signs.
But then he said something that hit me in a completely different way.
He said Jesus isn't standing there trying to stop your life… He's trying to guide it. He's the one lighting the road ahead so you can go farther than you ever could on your own.
And that idea stayed with me.
Because when you really look at it, most of the red lights and yellow lights in life come from us. From our choices. From our shame. From the lies we tell ourselves about who we are and what we deserve.
We stall out because we're afraid. We slam the brakes because of guilt. We sit at intersections in our lives convinced we're disqualified from moving forward.
But grace doesn't work like that.
Grace says you can keep going. Grace says your worst mistakes aren't the end of your story. Grace says the road ahead is still open.
When you let Jesus lead, the path doesn't suddenly become easy… but it becomes clear. The direction changes. The fear loses its grip. You stop living your life staring in the rearview mirror. You start moving forward.
I left church that day with that idea spinning in my head, and over the next couple weeks this song started coming together.
Because faith, at its core, isn't about being stopped.
It's about realizing the road ahead has been open the whole time.
And when mercy is driving… it's green lights only.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
I was driving through a small town one afternoon — not really headed anywhere important. Just one of those long highway drives where you’ve got time to think.
And I passed one of those old country graveyards sitting up on a little hill just off the road. The kind with crooked headstones and big oak trees around it.
For some reason I pulled in.
And when you stand in a place like that… something hits you pretty quick.
You’re looking at generations of an entire town laying there. Farmers, teachers, kids, grandparents… people who loved somebody, people somebody loved. Whole lifetimes summed up in a name and two dates.
And it kind of reminds you of something we all try not to think about too much.
One day… you and I and everybody we know will be in a place just like that.
Not in some dramatic way. Just the natural way life works.
And honestly, that thought isn’t meant to be depressing.
If anything, it’s a reminder.
A reminder to live while you’re here. To love the people in your life. To be thankful for the time you’ve got.
Because every one of those names on that hill once had a whole life in front of them too.
This song is just a little reminder of that.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
When I first wrote this song, I almost didn’t let anybody hear it.
Not because I didn’t think it was good, but because it was probably the most honest song I’ve ever written about my struggles.
And honesty can be uncomfortable.
Most songs we write, we dress things up a little. We hide behind metaphors or stories about somebody else. But this one… this one was about the demons in my own life.
The voices that tell you you’re not good enough. The mistakes you keep repeating even when you swear you’re done with them.
For a long time, I thought beating those things meant just trying harder… cleaning up your life… getting your act together.
But when I was studying the Bible, I ran across something Jesus said in Matthew and Luke. He talked about a man who gets rid of an unclean spirit. The house gets cleaned up, swept, and put in order… but it’s empty.
And the spirit comes back… and brings seven more with him.
That message hit me pretty hard.
Because the problem isn’t just getting rid of the darkness.
The real question is what fills the space after it leaves.
If your life stays empty, those things always come back. And when they come back, they’re stronger.
For me, the only way I’ve ever found to defeat those demons wasn’t willpower. It was filling that empty space with something stronger — with faith, with truth, and with good men around me who aren’t afraid to pray when life gets heavy.
After I listened to this song a few times, it actually became one of my favorites, probably because it tells the story of my journey — and the grace that brought me to the wonderful place I’m in today.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story and streaming links.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song didn't come from a big moment. It came from a quiet one.
It was an ordinary morning. Coffee on the counter, steam still curling off the top. Ashlee was asleep in the bedroom. The house was that early-morning kind of quiet.
I wasn't trying to write anything. I was just sitting there thinking about my life.
About how I got here. About her. About all the things I almost messed up but somehow didn't. About all the prayers I used to pray that I'd forgotten I'd ever prayed — and how most of them had quietly come true while I wasn't paying attention.
I grabbed the closest pen I could find. The ink was nearly dead. It barely wrote. I scribbled the first lines on the back of a Post-it note because that's what was within reach.
And the words just kept showing up.
The truth is, I don't need much. I just need her to wake up next to me. I need to see her smile. I need a guitar in the corner, a song in my head, and one more day to do this all over again.
That's it. That's the whole thing.
People talk a lot about chasing dreams. About building something big. About getting somewhere. But most days, the life I'd be chasing is already sitting next to me.
This song is me noticing.
It's me remembering that the woman I get to love, the songs I get to write, the mornings I get to keep waking up to — that's already more than I ever asked for.
Some people get one prayer answered in a lifetime.
I get to wake up lucky again.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song came from a feeling I couldn't ignore anymore.
Not a crisis. Not a breakdown. Just a quiet, persistent itch — the kind that shows up when you're driving home and the radio's playing but you're not really hearing it.
The feeling that the life you're living is smaller than the one you were built for.
For a long time, I made peace with that feeling by ignoring it. I told myself it was just how being a grown man worked. You clock in. You clock out. You handle the bills. You keep the wheels turning.
You don't ask too many questions about whether the road you're on is the road you actually wanted.
But the feeling didn't go away. It just got patient.
Some men hit a wall and call it a midlife crisis. I don't think that's what this was. I think this was God tapping me on the shoulder and asking, kindly but directly, whether I was going to keep coasting or whether I was going to actually show up for the life He gave me.
And here's the thing — when you've been on autopilot for a while, even hearing the question is uncomfortable. Because then you have to answer it.
So I started answering it.
Not loudly. Not all at once. Just a little bit at a time.
I started writing songs.
I started loving Ashlee on purpose, not on autopilot.
I started showing up for my family like a man who knew his time mattered.
I stopped waiting for permission.
And the more I did that, the more I realized "made for more" was never about being important. It was never about being recognized. It was never about doing something the world would notice.
It was about being the husband, the dad, the man, the soul I was actually designed to be.
Less about doing more.
More about being more.
The bridge in this song says it plain — not for the spotlight, not for the fame. Just to carry the cross and honor His name.
That's the whole thing.
I'm not done. He's not through.
But I'm done settling for getting by.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
I've got the chemical symbol for adrenaline tattooed on my back.
That tells you most of what you need to know about me.
I've spent a lot of my life chasing the next rush. Faster, higher, louder, further. I needed to feel something real, and the easiest way I knew how was to put myself in places where life had no choice but to hand it to me.
That kind of wiring doesn't go away. I've made peace with that. I'm always going to be the guy reaching for the next adventure.
But somewhere along the road, I noticed something I hadn't expected.
The biggest rush I've ever felt didn't come from a jump or a ride or a peak. It came from the woman walking through my regular days with me. The mornings, the porch swings, the wrong turns we laugh about later, the storms we've leaned into together.
That's the high I keep coming back to.
So this song is me reframing what adrenaline actually means to me now.
I still chase it. I always will.
But these days, the real rush is just really living — with her, on whatever road we're on next.
That's my drug of choice.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song came from the morning after.
Not a hangover morning. A different kind of morning. The kind where you're sitting with your coffee, replaying the night, and a memory shows up that makes you wince a little.
I'd been out with friends. At some point in the night, a big guy challenged me to arm wrestle. I beat him. Slammed his hand on the table fast. And I told that story at the table — louder than I needed to, more times than I needed to — making sure to mention I hadn't arm wrestled since high school.
That part I remembered too clearly the next morning.
It wasn't the win that bothered me. It was how badly I'd wanted everyone to know about it.
Because here's the thing — that strength wasn't mine. Not really. The body, the reflexes, the wiring that made that move possible — none of it was something I built. It was given to me. And there I was at a bar, taking the credit for it like I'd earned every bit of it myself.
That's when it hit me. My sin isn't the loud stuff. It's not the obvious stuff people would warn you about.
It's pride. It's the quiet need to be noticed. To be the strongest guy in the room. To make sure people see what I can do.
It's the addiction nobody talks about because it doesn't look like an addiction. But it pulls just as hard as any of the others.
So I sat down that morning, still embarrassed, and I wrote this one as honest as I could.
Every good thing in me came from God.
The pride is the only part I built myself.
And it's the part I'm still trying to lay down.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song started with a guitar my mom gave me when I was in my twenties.
I don't remember the exact day, but I remember the gift. I was at an age where I thought I already knew what I needed, and a guitar wasn't on the list. I was busy. I had things to do. Career. Plans. The kind of life that doesn't leave much room for sitting still long enough to learn six strings.
So the guitar waited.
It didn't sit there falling apart. The strings weren't rusty. I took care of it. I just didn't use it. There's a difference.
Years went by like that. The guitar in the corner. Me, busy with whatever I thought was more important.
What I didn't know back then is that my mom hadn't just given me an instrument. She'd handed me the room I was supposed to walk into eventually — the room where I'd finally learn how to say the things I couldn't say any other way.
Because here's what I figured out, much later than I should have — I'm not great at telling people how I feel. I never have been. I can talk. I can hold a conversation. But the deep stuff, the things that actually live in my chest, they don't come out easy.
Until I'm holding that guitar.
That's where they show up. That's where I open up. That's where the truth that's been pacing around inside me finally finds the door.
The guitar wasn't rusty. I was.
And once I figured that out, I couldn't stop thinking about how many people are walking around in that same shape. We've all got something. Some gift God put in us before we got here. A way of seeing. A way of helping. A way of telling the truth nobody else can tell quite the same.
Most of us whisper it. Some of us leave it on a shelf for decades. Some of us never use it at all.
This song isn't really about singing loud. The shaking-the-walls part isn't the point. That's just my version.
The real point is the question buried in the chorus — the volume's up to me. Am I gonna let it live?
That's a question for everybody.
The thing in your hands. The thing you keep telling yourself you're too busy for. The thing that would say the parts of you nobody else gets to hear.
Stop whispering it.
You weren't given a gift so it could collect dust.
You were given it so it could shake some walls.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
I was a western kid with a scholarship and not much of a plan. My teammate’s sister came out to watch a game — Ohio girl, didn’t know anybody. Her brother had something better to do that night and asked if I’d take her along when a few of us hit a bar in Denver. I said sure. I figured I’d be polite for an hour and call it a favor.
Half the team was already there when the Avalanche hockey guys walked in. I don’t remember who threw the first punch. I just remember she said my name and the rest of the room kind of disappeared. Fights broke out around us. I stayed in my chair. So did she.
That winter I taught her to ski like she’d been raised in Colorado. That summer we climbed eleven fourteeners. I asked her to marry me on top of Quandary Peak. We got a Boxer and named him Denver, because where else would we have started.
Our daughter came in the middle of a Florida hurricane — the lights went out, the hospital ran on generators, and she came out swinging. Kinda matches her spirit. Our son came on a quiet, sunny Colorado afternoon. Kinda matches his spirit too.
We built a house at the base of the Monument, with the river close enough to hear if you stood still. It was the dream we’d talked about. Then life moved us to Destin, and somehow that became home too. White sand instead of red rock. Different rhythm. Same girl.
Now our daughter’s at the Air Force Academy and our son’s at Auburn, both of them figuring out how to fly. We watch them go and try not to grip too tight.
We ride this old rollercoaster with open hands. We didn’t write any of this. He did. We’re just along for it, and I don’t want it to end.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This one started as a favor.
A good friend of mine asked me to write a song about a guardian angel. He didn't give me much else to go on. Just the assignment.
So I sat with it. And the more I sat with it, the more one thought kept showing up.
Some guardian angels have it easier than others.
Think about it. There's gotta be a roster up there. And every angel on that roster gets handed a soul. Some of those souls are nuns and Sunday school teachers and folks who go to bed at nine. Easy gig. Light shift.
And then some of those souls are guys like me on a Friday night.
That's when it hit me — somewhere up there, an angel pulled my number out of a hat and probably said something he had to repent for.
That made me laugh.
And once I started laughing, the song just showed up.
It's not a serious one. It wasn't trying to be. Sometimes faith makes more sense to me through a joke than a sermon. The idea of an angel pinching the bridge of his nose, cashing overtime checks because his guy keeps wandering into trouble — that's a kind of grace I can relate to.
Because that's the thing about grace, when you really think about it. It doesn't get to clock out. It's stuck with us. It pulls double shifts. It keeps showing up no matter how many fools we make of ourselves on the way home.
So this song is for my overtime angel.
And honestly, for everybody else's too.
If yours is anything like mine, he could probably use a coffee.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
For a long time, I thought I knew what enough looked like.
Enough was the next promotion. The next win. The next finish line. Enough was being someone people noticed. Enough was always somewhere up ahead.
So I chased it. Hard. I climbed, and every time I got to the top, I moved the line. I told myself the next thing would finally do it. The bigger house. Nicer toys. The next round of applause.
It never did.
I had a lot of moments where, on paper, I should have felt full. And instead I felt hollow. Like I'd worked years for a feeling that wasn't going to show up.
That's a strange kind of broken to be. Looking around at a life you'd worked hard to build and realizing you can't feel any of it.
What pulled me out wasn't another win. It wasn't a bigger job or a louder room.
It was something quiet.
It was Ashlee falling asleep on me on the couch.
That's it. That's where the whole thing turned around.
Because here's what I noticed — she didn't fall asleep on the version of me I'd been trying to build. She didn't fall asleep on the title or the resume or the highlight reel. She fell asleep on me. The actual me. The tired, flawed, still-figuring-it-out me.
And she trusted me enough to close her eyes.
That's a kind of love I don't know how to earn. I just know it found me anyway.
Faith showed up the same way. Not loud. Not theatrical. Just steady. The same God I'd been too busy to talk to was right there the whole time, holding the parts of me I couldn't hold myself.
She touched my hand. He touched my soul.
And somewhere in there, I stopped chasing.
I'm not finished. I still have days where I forget all of this and start running again. But this song is me trying to remember what I learned.
That the loudest applause I ever wanted is quieter than I expected.
That the life I was trying to build was already underneath me, breathing softly against my chest.
She sleeps on me… and that's enough.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song started with a question I asked myself one day.
What are the things I never say enough to my wife?
I gave it some real thought. And the list got short, fast.
Three things.
The first one is sorry.
A man who's been forgiven that many times never runs out of reasons to say sorry.
The second one is I love you.
But not the casual version. The kind I keep trying to find new ways to say because the regular way feels too small for what I actually mean.
The third one is I'll be there.
Through whatever the road decides to throw at us. Not because I have to. Because I get to.
Three things I can't say often enough. Three things I'll keep saying until I can't say anything anymore.
She knows them already. I'm sure of it.
But I figure if there's one place a man should never run out of words, it's with the woman who chose to walk through this whole life next to him.
So I wrote them down. I put them to music.
I'm sorry. I love you. I'll always be there.
That's the whole song. That's all I'm ever really saying.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song started as a love letter to my wife.
Or at least that's what I thought I was writing.
I sat down with the idea of writing about how Ashlee loves me. The whole truth of it. The fact that she's seen the worst of me and somehow stuck around. That she loves me when I lose my way. That she keeps showing up no matter what mess I bring home.
So I started writing.
And I kept writing.
And by the time I got to the end, something had shifted that I hadn't planned on.
The song still worked for her. Every line still fit. But the same lines fit Somebody Else just as well. The Somebody who'd been loving me long before Ashlee did. The Somebody who showed up before I had walls to put up. The Somebody whose love I keep testing and somehow never breaking.
I read it back and realized I'd accidentally written two love songs at the same time.
That kept me up for a while.
Because I've thought about it a lot since, and I don't think it was an accident. I think the way she loves me looks the way it does because of the way He loves her. And me. And both of us together.
When you've been loved like that — without a scoreboard, without conditions, without somebody keeping a list of every place you fell short — it changes how you love back. It's contagious. It overflows.
So now I sing this song two ways without changing a word.
Some nights it's about Ashlee. Some nights it's about God.
Some nights, honestly, I can't tell the difference.
And I think that's the whole point.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
If the devil was ever going to take me down, he wasn't going to use a bottle.
He was going to use attention from the wrong direction.
That's the truth. The trap built specifically for me wasn't whiskey or smoke or wild nights. It was a woman across a room making me feel important. A look that said I mattered. A smile that said I was worth noticing. That was the bait.
And it never felt like sin in the moment. That's the trick of it. It felt like being seen. It felt like being chosen. It felt like the answer to something I couldn't name.
What I learned, eventually, is that the pull wasn't really about the women at all. It was about me. About the part of me that needed strangers to confirm I was somebody.
My wife is the one who showed me what real love actually looks like. The kind that doesn't need an audience. The kind that doesn't keep score. The kind that's still there in the morning when nobody's watching.
And God showed me what it looks like to be loved without having to chase it. Without having to earn it. Without having to perform.
Once you've felt both of those, the pull loses its grip. Not all at once. But enough.
This song is a warning to the man I used to be — and to any man still out there listening for applause from the wrong rooms.
The prettiest traps don't look like traps.
That's what makes them traps.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
Every once in a while I stop and think about a simple question: What do I want to be remembered for when I’m gone?
Not the titles I held. Not the money I made. Not the things I built.
When you strip life down to its core, the list gets pretty short.
For me it came down to four things.
My wife. My kids. The world I leave behind. And whether I walked close enough to Jesus to hear Him say I did alright.
I started realizing that when life ends, nobody really cares about the noise we chased along the way. What matters is who we loved, who we helped, and what kind of example we left for the people who keep living after us.
I want my wife to know she was the place my heart always ran back to. I want my kids to know they were the proof that God gave me something greater than I deserved. I want the world to feel like I gave more than I took. And most of all, I want to know that I tried to follow the path Jesus laid in front of me.
That’s where this song came from.
It’s not really about dying.
It’s about living in a way where, when that day finally comes, the only things that matter are the things that always mattered most.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
I've been thinking a lot about what actually keeps a man going.
Not the surface stuff. Not the paycheck or the title or the pat on the back at the end of a long week. The deeper thing. The thing underneath it all that decides whether a man gets up tomorrow and tries again.
For me, the answer is simple. It's my wife.
I've had hard days. I've had stretches where I felt more like the nail than the hammer. I've had mornings where the version of me staring back in the mirror didn't look much like the version I'd hoped to be by now.
And every time, the thing that pulls me back to my feet is the way she looks at me.
She's got this way of seeing me that doesn't match what I see. Where I see doubt, she just laughs and says we'll be okay.
That kind of belief rewires a man. It makes you want to be who she already thinks you are.
The more I sat with it, the more I realized something bigger. Most of the men I admire had a woman behind them who believed in them before the world did. That's a quiet kind of power, and we don't talk about it enough.
So this song is for my wife, first.
But it's also for every woman out there holding up a man who'd be a lot smaller without her.
If I ever do anything in this life worth remembering, it won't be because I was strong enough on my own.
It'll be because she believed in me first.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.
The title sounds like a wink. A line you'd toss to your wife when she's all dressed up next to you in a photo.
But that's not what this song is about.
When I say my wife makes me look good, I don't mean in pictures. I mean in life. I mean the version of me people see is a better version because she's standing next to me. The patience, the kindness, the steadiness — a lot of what people think is mine is really hers rubbing off.
She makes me a better husband. A better father. A better man.
And the funny thing is, she doesn't try to. She just is. The good in her doesn't stay in her. It spills onto me. It makes the room I'm standing in look brighter, and I get credit I didn't fully earn.
So that's the song.
It's playful on the surface because she's playful. But underneath, it's the truth — whatever good people see in me on any given day, she had something to do with it.
She makes me look good because she makes me be good.
Written by Nathan Beard · © 2025 Nathan Beard. All rights reserved.
This song is in the works. Check back soon for the full story, lyrics, and streaming links.