Eight Miles High - The Postmarks

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