Identity Crisis

Sømetimes I førget whø I am.
I'm certainly nøt Tyler Jøseph,
But sømetimes I døn't feel like Nick either.

I løøk in the mirrør and all that I see
Is søme kind øf stranger staring back at me.
The same face, but øf cøurse, different hair.
But all the same, there's that vacant stare.
Like a mister nøbødy has entered the røøm
And silently, but suddenly I catch øn tø gløøm.
I øften remind myself øf whø I am,
But "my øcean grave is just beyønd the sand."
Sømetimes I'm sø lønely, døn't try and understand it,
But the things I desire are frøm different planets.
I døn't mean tø søund like I wan the impøssible,
Because technically, what I want is plausible.
I can't share that secret sø nøw I will hide
Før Øne møre day sø I can learn to reside.
Nøt just survive, sø I can learn tø live
Because with øut jøy, what's there tø give?
Nøw yøu may think før a møment yøu nøw understand me
But nøw just knøw that it resides deeply.
It my seem øbviøus, sø døn't tell all søul,
Because as øf right nøw I need space to grøw.
Sø nøw I will leave yøu this final nøte:

Dø yøu knøw whø I am? I have nø røøm to gloat.