Lyrics
My mind is made up, there's going to be trouble
My mind is made up, there's going to be trouble
My mind is made up, there's going to be trouble
My mind is made up, there's going to be trouble
My mind is made up, there's going to be trouble
My mind is made up, there's going to be trouble
Moved all my shit into my parent's basement
And out of our old apartment
And I know things changed but I'm not sure when
I guess you'd call this regression
I left a real job and a girlfriend
Convinced myself that I'm brave enough for all of this, well
I spent a whole year in airports
And the floor feels like home
Oh-oh-oh
At least we're never alone
I lost track of the time zones, I'd call but you know
Oh-oh-oh
I'm running on empty
And the late nights and the long drives start to get to me
I'm just so tired
I spent this year as a ghost and I'm not sure what I'm looking for
A voice on a phone that you rarely answer anymore
I came in here alone, came in here alone
(But that doesn't scare me like it did seven months ago)
I spent this year as a ghost and I'm not sure where home is anymore
Been on a steady fast food diet
Like we're this generation's
Morgan Spurlock but we don't admit defeat
My body feels rejected, I can't say that I blame it
My heart keeps saying, "Stay young"
My lower back seems to disagree
Unrolled a cheap cotton blanket on an old dirty couch
Oh-oh-oh
I felt the year start to wind down
I can't stand any dead space
Empty beds bum me out
Oh-oh-oh
I spent this year as a ghost and I'm not sure what I'm looking for
A voice on a phone that you rarely answer anymore
I came in here alone, came in here alone
(But that doesn't scare me like it did seven months ago)
I spent this year as a ghost and I'm not sure where home is anymore
I came out swinging from a South Philly basement
Caked in stale beer and sweat under half-lit fluorescents
And I spent the winter writing songs about getting better
Well, if I'm being honest, I'm getting there
I came out swinging from a South Philly basement
Caked in stale beer and sweat under half-lit fluorescents
And I spent the winter writing songs about getting better
And if I'm being honest, I'm getting there
I came out swinging from a South Philly basement
Caked in stale beer and sweat under half-lit fluorescents
And I spent the winter writing songs about getting better
Well, if I'm being honest, I'm getting there
