oung hearts don't always beat to standard verse & chorus. we'll deviate from your script & fake our own deaths tonight. we've plotted our escape, using these instruments & a corrupt language, with voices stronger than those projected. the stage is set, but the set's a fake. we refuse to memorize the soundtrack to your racket. and i will not choreograph the next distraction. interruption is music to our ears. everything written down is an act.