Текст песни Emergency Broadcast Syndrome (live) - Every Time I Die
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
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?
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.
Внимание! Не стесняйтесь оставлять отзывы.