Emergency Broadcast Syndrome

I hate this city

Reposition the phantom rigged, reflective tape

Situated like a makeshift antenna, grinning like tinfoil

We're losing reception, we can't pick up the game

I should be discontinued, I am a broadcasting embarrassment

Hiss like the damned

Decoding the transmitted pulse that dispatch from her lips

I am not receiving a sign that says I am still here anymore

Do you hear me? Am I coming through at all?

Is any of this making sense?

Is any of this making sense?

Is any of this making sense to you?

You've got a ghost on your hands

A televisual image only partially clear

(I wish we'd all just stop talking at once)

Scrambled phantom

Spitting and cursing from the scrapheap we were on

You should have lost your cool

You should have lost your cool