The contract

by Twenty one pilots

I check the doors, check the windows, and pull the blinds,
I check the clock
wondering what he will pull this time,
I have a feeling that necromancer’s outside,
And I'm just trying to stay quiet.
I don’t sleep much, that's crazy, how’d you know that?
Keep myself up, that's maybe how you know that,
Promises and contracts
I used to keep,
I don’t sleep much, that's crazy, how’d you know that?
Keep myself up, that’s maybe how you know that,
My hallucination
I used to see.
Wake up and I find out, did a change up,
Wait-
Did it change up?
Is it light out yet?
Better find out. Bet,
Imma walk around the edge of the room,
And the bed where I hide my face,
Pace around,
Better try to breathe,
Pace around,
Pace around.
I check the doors, check the windows, and pull the blinds,
I check the clock
wondering what he will pull this time,
I have a feeling that necromancer’s outside,
And I'm just trying to stay quiet.
I don’t sleep much, that's crazy, how’d you know that?
Keep myself up, that's maybe how you know that,
Promises and contracts
I used to keep,
I don’t sleep much, that's crazy, how’d you know that?
Keep myself up, that’s maybe how you know that,
My hallucination

Interpretations

MYBESH.COM

Analysis
# The Shadowed Interior: Decoding Twenty One Pilots' "The Contract"

"The Contract" stands as a haunting psychological portrait in Twenty One Pilots' repertoire, offering listeners a window into paranoia and existential dread. At its core, the song portrays an individual trapped in a cycle of anxiety and insomnia, constantly checking locks and peering through blinds, convinced that something sinister—personified as a "necromancer"—lurks outside. The lyrics suggest a deeply personal battle with mental health, where the protagonist's mind has become both prison and tormentor. Tyler Joseph appears to be examining the unspoken contracts we make with our demons—agreements to remain vigilant against threats that may exist primarily within our own consciousness.

The emotional landscape of "The Contract" is dominated by fear, paranoia, and exhaustion. The repeated motif of sleeplessness ("I don't sleep much") creates a sense of vulnerability that pervades the entire composition. There's a palpable tension between the desire for safety and the exhaustion of constant vigilance. What makes these emotions particularly resonant is how they're delivered—not with dramatic flourish, but with the matter-of-fact tone of someone who has normalized their own psychological distress. This normalizing of abnormal mental states creates an unsettling emotional dissonance that mirrors the experience of chronic anxiety itself.

The song's symbolism is rich and layered, with the "necromancer" serving as its central metaphorical figure. This image—representing something that resurrects the dead—suggests that the protagonist is haunted by past traumas or thoughts they've tried to bury. The repeated checking of doors, windows, and blinds represents ritualistic behavior common in anxiety disorders, while simultaneously symbolizing the fragile barriers between the self and perceived threats. Perhaps most telling is the line about "promises and contracts I used to keep," suggesting a breakdown in the narrator's relationship with reality or their ability to maintain commitments—possibly including commitments to their own mental wellbeing.

The cultural context of "The Contract" resonates particularly in an era marked by increasing awareness of mental health struggles. Twenty One Pilots has consistently provided a vocabulary for discussing psychological distress, and this song continues that tradition by illustrating the isolating nature of anxiety disorders. The question "how'd you know that?" repeated throughout suggests both surprise at being understood and perhaps paranoia about being observed. This duality speaks to the paradoxical experience of mental health struggles in contemporary society—the simultaneous desire to be understood while fearing exposure and judgment.

Alternative interpretations of "The Contract" might view it through different lenses. Some might see it as a commentary on creative pressure, with the "necromancer" representing the demanding music industry that resurrects artists for performance after performance. Others might interpret it as depicting substance dependency, where the "contracts" represent promises to stay clean that have been broken. The hallucinations mentioned could be withdrawal symptoms or the effects of substances used to combat insomnia. The beauty of Joseph's writing lies in this ambiguity, allowing listeners to project their own struggles onto the framework he provides.

What makes "The Contract" particularly powerful is its unflinching portrayal of the mundane aspects of psychological distress. Rather than romanticizing mental health struggles, Twenty One Pilots captures the tedious, repetitive nature of anxiety—the pacing, checking, and constant internal questioning. The song achieves resonance through recognition; countless listeners find themselves reflected in these rituals of fear. By giving voice to experiences often suffered in silence, Joseph transforms private torment into shared understanding, offering validation to those who recognize their own nocturnal rituals in his lyrics. "The Contract" ultimately reminds us that our most private battles are often universal, and there's a peculiar comfort in knowing that even in our most isolated moments, we are not alone in our experience.
Posted on Jun 14, 2025 by Athena