Next Semester Twenty One Pilots 

Stand up straight now,
Can’t break down,
Graduate now,
I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be here,

It’s a taste test,
Of what I hate less,
Can you die of anxiousness?
I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be here,
What’s about to happen? What’s about to happen?

I remember, I remember certain things,
What I was wearing, the yellow dashes in the street,
I prayed those lights would take me home,
Then I heard, “Hey kid, get out of the road!”

Can’t feel my legs,
I might suffocate,
There’s a pressure in my chest,
I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be here,
What’s about to happen? What’s about to happen?

Can’t change what you’ve done,
Start fresh next semester.

It’s a taste test of what I hate less,
I don’t want to be here,

Start fresh with a new year.