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TWENTY ØNE PILØTS

Your grandpa died when you were nine
They said he had lost his mind
You have learned way too soon
You should never trust the pantaloon

Now it’s your turn to be alone
Find a wife and build yourself a home
You have learned way too soon
That your dad is now the pantaloon

You are tired, you are hurt
A moth ate through your favorite shirt
And all your friends fertilize
The ground you walk
Lose your mind

He’s seen too many staredowns
Between the sun and the moon in the morning air
How he used to hustle all the people
Walking through the fairgrounds
He’s been around so long he’s changed his meaning of a chair now
Because a chair now,
Is like a tiny island in the sea of all the people
Who glide across the very surface that made his bones feeble
The end can’t come soon enough but is it too soon?
Either way, he can’t deny he is a pantaloon

You are tired, you are hurt
A moth ate through your favorite shirt
And all your friends fertilize
The ground you walk
Lose your mind

You like to sleep alone
It’s colder than you know
‘Cause your skin is so
Used to colder bones
It’s warmer in the morning
Than what it is at night
Your bones are held together by your nightmare and your frights

You are tired, you are hurt
A moth ate through your favorite shirt
And all your friends, they fertilize
The ground you walk
So lose your mind

You are tired, you are hurt
A moth ate through your favorite shirt
And all your friends, they fertilize
The ground you walk
Lose your mind

Songwriters: Tyler Joseph

The Pantaloon lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc