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 their own

Nowhere is there hope to be found
Among those afraid of losing their ground

Rain-gray town known for its sounds
In places, small faces unbound

Down the square they are huddled in storms
Some laughing, some just shapeless forms

Sidewalk scenes and black limousines
Some living, some standing alone

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