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