Problem Solver Songtext

von Robocobra Quartet

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.