This Gun

Well, I was kinda drunk
When I woke up in a bed off Bedford Ave.
Thank God for this backpack filled with migraine pills
'Cause more tequila was all she had

With my blue jeans cuffed and my denim sleeves rolled up
I was back out on my own
Funny how having no place to be
Doesn't feel so free when there's no place you call home

And I hate how much I don't know what I'm doing
And I hate how much I hate it being wrong
And I never meant to be so damn judgmental, but you see
If I can't make it here, can I make it on my own?
But there's one more shot in this gun

Well, I was kinda broke when I saw smoke on the freeway up ahead
Thank God that I drove right by with my phone held high
Instead of stopping to lend a hand

I was feeling like a mess and I was stoned off my ass
Without a single friend around
Funny how having no place to go
Doesn't feel all that slow even though you're losing ground

And I hate how much I don't know what I'm doing
And I hate how much I hate it being wrong
And I'm better than I was back when she left
But that's because I was just waiting here, and I waited far too long
But there's one more shot in this gun

You spend your whole life shouting out someone "Please listen to me"
You spend your whole life waiting on someone to take you seriously
And now you're staring down what happens when they actually do
Can this come true? I'll prove it to you

And I hate how I'm ashamed of what I'm doing
And I'm tired of being blind to when I'm wrong
And I promise if you'll be just a little patient now with me
You'll see I'm changing here, take my hand and come along
'Cause there's one more shot in this gun
Yeah, there's one more shot in this gun
Yeah, there's one more shot in this gun
There's one more shot in this gun