Emergency Broadcast Syndrome Songtext

Reposition the phantom rigged in 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 embarrasment. hiss like the damned. decoding the transmitted pulse that dispatch from her lips. i am not recieving 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? you've got a ghost on your hands. a televisual image only partially clear. scrambled phantom (i wish we'd all just stop talking at once). spitting and cursing from the scrapheap we're on. you should have lost your cool