Letra de Past Imperfect

we won't play your game. ou wrote the book, made the rules. we are excerpts from the same book, dog-eared but not worn out. all books reach an ending. so, then, will our movement. gather all your hang-ups & feed them to the sharks. we'll inhabit the space between the two extremes: so alive in body & so devoid of heart. we knew there would be no future; that was our greatest freedom.