i have nothing to report on my return
back from fact finding, i have found no facts.
home from the new world, gurkha's gloss turned matte.
i want to talk for a second about where we're at
i want to talk for minute about that
i want to balk for a moment before we yield
faults find their way to cheek each year
I have nothing to report on my return
but i found comfort in a held-back smile seeping through your speech
sleeping through a few weeks, waiting for the worst to drop
those weeks were astral but i lay in wait for the death-knell
sometimes your day takes a different shape than you thought it would resemble.

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