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