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
Sidewalk scenes and black limousines
Some living, some standing alone