I have little to report

Since your town was lowered back into the ground

With the ferris wheel fading

The peculiar quiet

The things we left against the pier

Made a couple of signs

Tied notes to some balloons

Read through the paper again

As the sun comes up

Your air conditioners click on

The only sound against the waves

Been having this idea that we're having the same adventure

Unfunded

Unnoticed

And alright

Your notes would talk about the distance and down-time

And the depth at which you'd stare

When nothing would come in

You'd stare at the hole in the awning

And drift off with your cigarettes

Parallel to the proud display

Losing track of the days

Parallel to the proud display

Quiet nod to the great expanse