Eight miles high

And when you touch down

You'll find that it's stranger than known



Signs in the street

That say where you're going

Are somewhere, just being there own



Nowhere is their warmth to be found

Among those afraid of losing their ground

Rain, gray town, known for it's sound

In places, small faces unbound



'Round the squares, huddled in storms

Some laughing, some just shapeless forms

Sidewalks scenes and black limousines

Some living, some standing alone