Eight miles high and when you touch down
Like a jet plane landing, You'll find it's unsettling
Signs in the street that say where you're going
Are somewhere,
the pain is overwhelming Nowhere is there warmth to be found
Among those
INLAWS coming to your town
Rain gray town known for its
moulting season In places small faces unbound without reason ....
Round the squares huddled in storms
Some laughing some
Loving Gentle Caress Sidewalk scenes and black limousines
Some driving, some
crashing headlong through the wall