INTRODUCTION

VERSE 1

HOOK

PRE CHORUS 

CHORUS 

Verse 2

BRIDGE

OUTRO

There’s a reason I’m releasing this song as a "demo."

In my library, I have projects that date back years—some, like this one, all the way back to 2018. Most people only want to show the world the polished, finished product, but for me, the magic is in the rough draft. When I’m in those moments of darkness, away from everyone, sitting in my car and worrying about my health, I don’t listen to the songs I’ve already produced and released. I listen to the unfinished ones.

I listen to these drafts on repeat until I fall asleep. They are my sanctuary. They are the only thing I have to talk to when I feel like an outcast.

Releasing "QUARTER PAST THREE" as a demo is my way of inviting you into that car with me. It’s not about outdoing my last track or making a "hit." It’s about being present with the process. It’s about that raw energy that exists before the world gets a hold of it. I’ve been sitting with this melody for six years, and finally, the words found their way out of the Ableton sessions and into the light. I’m sharing the "rough" version because that’s where the truth lives.

SOUNDCLOUD LINK (WolvOfficial Music)

By Carl Schultz/WolvOfficial

Sometimes, I feel like I’m on the outside looking in.

Lately, my reality has been a series of quiet moments in parking lots—sitting in my car just to feel through the weight of everything, even though I have a roof over my head. Medically, I’ve been through the ringer.

Between the Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI), the migraines, the vertigo, and the combat-related PTSD, some days are just about hanging in there for one more night.

The Marines taught me how to take that "one more step," but the battle has changed. Now, the enemy isn't in front of me; it's the struggle of a body and mind trying to heal.

Long before I was a Marine or a producer in Ableton, I was a 7-year-old kid in the Las Vegas desert.

I spent my nights crying in my bedroom sometimes, but my days were spent behind my house, digging. I’d build these elaborate underground forts. I remember telling myself that one day, when I finally had money, I was going to hide it right there in the ground. I was building vaults for a future I couldn't even see yet.

There’s a direct line from that kid digging in the dirt to the man sitting in front of a laptop today.

Back then, I was building forts to feel safe, to have a place that was mine. Today, I’m building songs like "QUARTER PAST THREE" for the exact same reason. Each layer of audio, each vocal track, is like a brick in those underground forts. It’s a place I’ve built where I can hide the parts of me that are too "flawed" or "embarrassed" for the rest of the world to see.

I’m still that kid in the desert.

I’m still building things from nothing. The only difference is that now, instead of hiding my treasures in the dirt, I’m putting them into the music and letting you hear them.

In those moments of darkness, when I’m isolating from the world, I turn to the one thing that has never left me: Music.

I’ve seen a huge spiritual growth in my work lately. It’s no longer about the money. I create for the pure love of it.

I’ve been diving deep into Ableton, mastering vocal layering, and obsessing over the "energy" of a track rather than just the lyrics.

My upcoming release is a demo song titled "QUARTER PAST THREE".

I first found this instrumental (produced by Wolfgang Pander and Feelo) back in 2018. It sat in my library, a quarter-finished ghost, until a few days ago. I pulled it into the workstation, and the words just poured out. The song is a reflection of those 1:00 AM nights when sleep won't come—a bridge between my pain and whoever out there needs to hear that they aren't alone.

Looking back, I realize my whole life has been a preparation for this resilience.

On my grandparents' gift to me—a Foot Locker—there was a Robert Frost quote: "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference." I’ve lived that. Whether it was the Marine Corps, Frito-Lay corporate, or UNLV, I’ve always been an "anti-conforming" soul.

If you’re reading this, you’re likely a unique, hungry individual. You aren't here for "entertainment"; you’re here because you’re looking for something real.

I want you to know that I am flawed. I deal with shame, memory loss, and days where I don’t want to go on. But my superpower—and maybe yours, too—is the "One More" rule. One more set, one more dish, one more song, one more day.

I don’t know how much longer I have on this earth, so I’m putting everything into the music. When I’m driving to Starbucks, I look at the people in the other cars and think, “Someone out there is going to have their life changed by this energy.”

"QUARTER PAST THREE" is coming OUT SOON to YouTube and SoundCloud. It’s raw, it’s a demo, and it’s me.

Take care of yourselves. Do something that nourishes your soul today. You’re not alone.

People see the "Wolf." They see the Marine, the survivor, the guy who has been through rocket attacks and came out the other side. They see a figure of "Survive and Conquer" and assume I’m made of granite.

But survival doesn't always look like a Hollywood movie. Sometimes, survival is just hanging in there one more night when your body feels like it’s failing you.

There’s a strange friction in being a man trained for peak physical performance—to be a weapon—and then waking up to a reality where your blood pressure drops if you take the wrong pill, or where a kidney stone feels like a mountain you can’t climb. The "Wolf" is expected to be hard, but the man is often soft, tired, and in pain.

I’m not an indestructible figure who can walk on water. I’m a human being who deals with shame and the frustration of a brain that doesn’t always remember where it’s been.

Music is where those two versions of me meet. In the studio, I don't have to be the "tough vet" for anyone. I can be vulnerable. I can admit that I isolate not because I’m "lone wolfing" it, but because I’m overwhelmed. Choosing to be authentic—to show the cracks in the armor—is a different kind of combat. It’s the battle to be seen for who I actually am, not just the uniform I used to wear.