Rowing In Circles

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Ceschi and Factor Chandelier

Ceschi and Factor Chandelier are musical artists who collaborate together. They are known for their unique fusion of indie rock, folk, and hip-hop genres. Ceschi is a rapper and singer-songwriter with a distinctive vocal style, while Factor Chandelier is a producer known for his eclectic and atmospheric beats. Together, they create music that blends introspective lyrics, catchy melodies, and experimental soundscapes. more »

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It seems hopeless floating on this winding river
It seems that I'll never get to where I'll lay
Oh, so softly on a bed, head on a pillow
Know the road can make a man forget his age

Touch me, baby, till I forget my own name
Touch me gently on the head or through the veins

I've been rowing 'round in circles fifty days

Forget about it. Money come, money go
Hustling hard, trying to paint plastic gold
Happy in my Connecticut hole

Got the Hemingway shotgun till the head swagger though
Sometimes feel like a jaded mess
I'm the ashes of David Koresh or less
Tangled in webs, even at my best

There will never be an S emblazoned on my chest
So what's next
So what's next

It seems hopeless floating on this winding river
It seems that I'll never get to where I'll lay
Oh, so softly on a bed, head on a pillow
Know the road can make a man forget his age
I've been rowing around in circles fifty days
I've been rowing  around in circles fifty days

Money come, money go
Many make many mistakes over money though
That's the road

Always surrounded but still alone
Spent my last dime trying to live in a musical
Never lost sight of my goals but it's so cold
With rats crawling into your home

That cliched cloud over my head is so real
My grandmother's death was so real
I'm so fake
Ten cop guns to my head was so fake
Can't feel a god damn thing but I'm awake

Will I ever learn from these stupid fucking mistakes
Rowing in circles trying to turn ponds to lakes
I'm so me, so bored of it
Bullet in my mouth spit out ornaments

Was I really born for this shit or will I be torn to bits by the swarm of regrets
Is that it

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