Looking up at the passing clouds.nThe planes are low on fuel; they're crashing down.nIt's never quite the same the second time around.nShadows passing faces walking through the crowds.nnVoices in your head;nthings that you should have said.nnSmiles faded; the past rang true.nSweating collars and ties hang loose.nMounting the courage to climb your stoop,nthe flowers forgotten, the boy - he grew.nnAnd faceless angels said,nwe feel much better now our lives are spent.