the game has gone to overtime again.

the game has got our teeth aching, white-knuckled grip on nothing

the game has us praying for a last-minute buzzer beater, a final act of god

the game has the next shift hurting, yet we still believe ourselves to be divine

the game has us all thinking _it’s gonna be me i just know i’ll make sure of it_

the game has gone to overtime again.

the game has that little black void searching for a white nylon lining

the game has a heartbeat, something that thrums in each tape-to-tape pass

the game has a life cycle, metamorphosed in three stages, four if we’re unlucky

the game has always asked us _the question in each and every thing_

the game has gone to overtime again.

the game has all the time and space in the world but it is clearly not enough

the game has us shivering, from cold or adrenaline we don’t care to know

the game has us wishing it would just end so we can go home and cry

the game has always been forever, something that asks _do you desire this once more?_

the game has gone to overtime again.

the game has us turning away from cameras, the men on the screen are not us

the game has our friends wondering what happened, why we are the way we are

the game has them remembering the fault of those who came before us

the game has us wishing to play once more _and innumerable times more_

the game has gone to overtime again.