Twenty One Pilots

Am I the only one I know?
Waging my wars behind my face, and above my throat?
Shadows will scream that I'm alone

I-I-I I've got a migraine
And my pain will range from up, down, and sideways
Thank God it's Friday
'Cause Fridays will always be better than Sunday's, 'cause Sunday's are my suicide days
I don't know why they always seem so dismal
Thunderstorms, clouds, snow and a slight drizzle
Wether it's the weather or the ledges by my bed
Sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head
Let it be said what the headache represents
It's me defending in suspense
It's me suspended in a defenseless test...

There's miles of land in front of us
And we're dying with every step we take
We're dying with every breath we make
And all fall in line

A stranger's back is all I see
He's only a few feet in front of me
And all look left and right sometimes
But all fall in line

No one looks up anymore
'Cause you might get a raindrop in your eye
And heaven forbid, they see you cry
As we fall in line

And about this time of every year
The Line will go to the ocean pier
And walk right off into the sea
Then we fall asleep
As we near the end of land
And our ocean graves are just beyond the sand
I ask myself the question, why
I fall...