Came Out Swinging

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