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