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Aubrey Jones Sep 2018
[Verse 1]
You will never know what's behind my skull
So won't you say good night, so I can say goodbye
You will never know what's under my hair
So won't you say good night, so I can say goodbye
You will never know what's under my skin
So won't you say good night, so I can say goodbye
You will never know what is in my veins
So won't you say good night, so I can say goodbye
[Chorus]
Won't you go to someone else's dreams?
Won't you go to someone else's head?
Haven't you taken enough from me?
Won't you torture someone else's sleep?
[Verse 2]
And you will never know what I'm thinking of
Won't you go to someone else's dreams?
So won't you say good night, so I can say goodbye
Won't you go to someone else's head?
And you will never understand what I believe
Haven't you taken enough from me?
So won't you say good night
Won't you torture someone else?
So I can say goodbye?
[Bridge]
Haven't you taken enough from me?
Won't you torture someone else's sleep?
Won't you go to someone else's dreams?
Won't you go to someone else's head?
Haven't you taken enough from me?
Won't you torture someone else's sleep?
[Verse 3]
I start to part two halves of my heart in the dark and I
Don't know where I should go and the tears and the fears begin to multiply
Taking time in a simple place; in my bed where my head rests on a pillowcase
And it's said that a war's lead but I forget that I let another day go by
I want to be afraid but it seems that these days
I'm caught under water and I'm falling farther
My heart's getting harder, I'm calling my father
Am I screaming to an empty sky?
Empty sky, no way, that's me cause one half of my heart is free
Empty sky, no way, that's me, cause the other half of my heart's asleep
this is not my poem
this song is by twenty one pilots
regional at best
love this song so much
Chabadtzke Jun 2018
People say I'm obsessive, and I wholeheartedly agree. I'd die for a favorite artist, and I reread stories I like until I hate them. I force myself to love every song performed by "my band" (which, incidentally, is Twenty One Pilots), to a point where I'm not entirely sure which of their tunes actually earned their place in my heart.
It brings to mind a modern-Hebrew term, "protektzia". It can be translated as social leverage, or "pull". Protektzia is when you are related to the administrator of an elite high school, or when you're friendly with the secretary of a sought-after doctor. It's as if songs walk up to me and say, "hey, I know I'm not that great, but I was written by so-and-so!"
All that changes when old Depression drops by. Suddenly, things I cared so much for are meaningless. It's like quarreling with a close friend. Although, I don't hate my former faves so much as scorn them, for being silly enough to exist.
Why does depression do this to me? Because depression is the drainage of passion. As a cow needs to be milked and a dripping air-conditioner needs a bucket, what are obsessions if not an outlet for the passion contained in the heart?
But neither are necessary when the cow is dead and the AC off.
Thankfully, depression to me is a mood rather than a condition, and so I host frequent reunions with my beloved idols.
You are all invited!
I'd like to take this moment to thank my heroes, among them Twenty One Pilots! Stay alive, frens! |-/
Aaryn Mar 2018
I've turned my guns to fists
But now i'm fighting
Along with all these other
Mutant kids
Fused at the wrist
Even though you told them
To shoot at this
Our demons are what we're fighting
And we can’t win
Guns for Hands is one of my favorites twenty one pilots songs and it has helped save my life. I love this song I love Tyler's message and I love this bands purpose. This was my reaction to listening to Guns For Hands for the first time.
Vianna Jan 2018
I try desperately to run through the sand
As I hold the water in the palm of my hand
'Cause it's all that I have and it's all that I need and
The waves of the water mean nothing to me
But I try my best and all that I can
To hold tightly onto what's left in my hand
But no matter how, how tightly I will strain
The sand will slow me down and the water will drain
I'm just being dramatic, in fact, I'm only at it again
As an addict with a pen, who's addicted to the wind
As it blows me back and forth, mindless, spineless, and pretend
Of course I'll be here again, see you tomorrow, but it's the end of today
End of my ways as a walking denial
My trial was filed as a crazy suicidal head case
But you specialize in dying, you hear me screaming "father"
And I'm lying here just crying, so wash me with your water
- Twenty one pilots
Vianna Jan 2018
Nobody thinks what I think
Nobody dreams when they blink
Think things on the brink of blasphemy
I'm my own shrink
Think things are after me, my catastrophe
I'm a kitchen sink
You don't know what that means
Because a kitchen sink to you
Is not a kitchen sink to me, okay, friend?
Are you searching for purpose?
Then write something, yeah it might be worthless
Then paint something then, it might be wordless
Pointless curses, nonsense verses
You'll see purpose start to surface
No one else is dealing with your demons
Meaning maybe defeating them
Could be the beginning of your meaning, friend
-Twenty One pilots

What they're trying to say, is that, when you feel that life has no purpose, and aren't living for anything anymore, then make something, weather it be, a poem, a song, a painting, or anything. As long as it matters to you, and you know what it means, then you have purpose, because if you die, then who else is gonna know what it means to you?
How frustrating
And so degrading
This time were wasting
It's like were blind to the life were hating
So much for life
I might need a knife
Because sometimes in order to live
You have to **** your mind.
Some tidbits from Twenty One Pilots are in here. If you can find them, that's pretty cool!
Lorem Ipsum Dec 2017
Hello
We haven't talked in quite some time
I know
I haven't been the best
Of sons, hello, I've been traveling in the desert of my mind
And I
Haven't found a drop
Of life
I haven't found a drop
Of you, I haven't found a drop
I haven't found a drop
Of water
Water
I try desperately to run through the sand
As I hold the water in the palm of my hand
'Cause it's all that I have and it's all that I need and
The waves of the water mean nothing to me
But I try my best and all that I can
To hold tightly onto what's left in my hand
But no matter how, how tightly I will strain
The sand will slow me down and the water will drain
I'm just being dramatic, in fact, I'm only at it again
As an addict with a pen, who's addicted to the wind
As it blows me back and forth, mindless, spineless, and pretend
Of course I'll be here again, see you tomorrow, but it's the end of today
End of my ways as a walking denial
My trial was filed as a crazy suicidal head case
But you specialize in dying, you hear me screaming "father"
And I'm lying here just crying, so wash me with your water
Water
Hello
I haven't talked in quite some time
I know
I haven't been the best
Of sons, hello, I've been traveling in the desert of my mind
And I
I haven't found a drop
Of life
I haven't found a drop
Of you
I haven't found a drop
I haven't found a drop
Of water

Songwriters: Joseph Tyler Harris
Addict with a Pen lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc
Luna Rose Nov 2016
Useless                                                          ­          
Beyond recall
Worsening
Dejected
…..
The voices
Of people
Who have labeled me
I am a person who cannot be developed
Why is that people have the need to put me down
Is cause people see me , As a somewhat caveman

I wonder if I died today will the world remember me as a terminal case ?
Or would I be remembered as that little girl
Who only wanted to have a friend

I see little kids with their mothers and fathers and
I wonder do their children know that
They are slowly melting away to a society
That does not understand the concept of
Life, with people day by day popping capsules
So they can feel numb to each other. So numb
To fact that they would use the term goner as some sort of a name

I remember the days That  I would lock myself in my room and cry
Cry about how nobody wanted to play with me
Cry about how I never looked like the other girls in my class
I remember the days when my mom would put my hair in pigtails  I had my pigtails till the 4th grade

Many of the other girls thought it was strange
Many people thought I was strange
The only friend I had was the mirror reflection of myself
But sometimes she didn't even want to play with me

I still remember the day a teacher called me stupid
I remember not being able to count backwards
I remember I didn't know how to read
I remember that little girl who
Had one wish
Her wish was to be smart
Till this day she still wishes she was smart

You may say that I'm smart
But in all honesty
I don't see myself as a smart person

I look in mirror every morning and see
A soul who has been bruised too many times
A soul who is barely surviving
This world as we know it                                            

Most of you may see this as a phase
Or just a girl who just wants your attention
But what you don't  realize that
This girl is telling you her story

I would like to tell you that I am a survivor
But that my friend would be a lie
I am still at war
Ladies and gentlemen
You have labeled
Me as a goner

Sings (twenty one pilots GONER):

I'm a goner
Somebody catch my breath
I'm a goner
Somebody catch my breath
I wanna be known by you
I wanna be known by you

Though I'm weak
Beaten down
I'll slip away
Into the sound
The ghost of you
Is close to me
I'm inside out
You're underneath

I'm a goner
Somebody catch my breath
I'm a goner
Somebody catch my breath
I wanna be known by you
I wanna be known by you
I got inspired by twenty one pilots
Marissa Nov 2016
Thank you Twenty One Pilots for all you've done for the broken people.
You've cured some of the ones who have tried their suicidal session.
You've shown us that you know what it feels like to suffer.
You've told us that the hardest nights will get brighter when the sun comes up, and we can try again.
You've been a friend when we've needed one the most.
You've described the destructive thoughts as metaphors that we can find hope from.
You've combined ukulele music with screamo and made it art.
You've given us lyrics to find the motivation to keep going.
You've told us to stay alive, so that's what we do.
Stay alive |-/
Al May 2016
i wonder if it’d be cold against my neck
or if it’d be hot, or if i’d have to heat it just to be sure.
i wonder if it’d be as comfortable as sleeping,
but nothing’s as comfortable as sleeping:
as dreaming, as breathing, as thinking of being—
as being nonliving and no longer breathing.
so i doubt i’ll ever hang myself because to be fair,
the dead can breathe no air.
i'd tie it to a tree, but there are no trees where i'm sleeping
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