Christian Connor Schwantes Biography

Lyrics are harsh and filled with classical malice
Drinking in tears dripped into its chalice
Where logic binds it, time can’t define it
Suicide seems suitable
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Everyone sits in circle
Waiting for their turn to talk
But no one gets up, walks out the back door
Everyone stands and looks back
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Hey insanity can’t you wait till I count to three
Come on give me some roam to breath
It all seems to slip real slow, I only noticed because I went against the flow
I see what you’re doing
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Need to write, need to write, need to write
My brain is spitting things into oblivion
A magic carpet it’s riding on
No Disney songs, just a whistle in my ear
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Remember when it was simple
When everything only meant a little
I didn’t drink a lot
We never screamed and fought
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