position 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