Sister, my game is life on my terms.
Brother, my game is terms on my life.
Two people looking, yearning and lying a lot each one playing a part practiced, recited, and lived in another time countless destinies ago.

If I told you about love would you care?
If I loved you without telling would you know?
The game goes on.
Everyone shrieking I don’t play games, at half time.

Back court presses as images pass themselves off as realities and realities go unnoticed save a few who are too tired for the third quarter.

Truth is the most valuable player and everyone thinks he’s a promising newcomer.
Many understand the rudiments of basketball.
Isn’t life a fast break, four quarter game?
Cheered by some, booed by others and the score forgotten next week, save by a few.