| Eight Miles High |
|---|
| Eight miles high |
| And when you touch down |
| You find you’re |
| Stranger than known |
| Signs in the street |
| That say where you’re going |
| Are somewhere |
| Just being their own |
| Nowhere is there |
| Warmth to be found |
| Just those afraid |
| Of losing their ground |
| Rain grey town |
| Known for its sound |
| In places |
| Small faces abound |
| Round the squares |
| Huddled in storms |
| Some laughing |
| Some just shapeless forms |
| Sidewalk scenes |
| And black limousines |
| Some living |
| Some standing |
| Alone |
