"This city will always bug you, baby
I know for me it does the same
It's pretty, I suppose, from inside a plane
That's heading for another place
So wave and blow me one more kiss
'Cause you're a dead-eye, baby, you simply never miss
There's not much else as sweet as this
I waved so hard I broke my wrist
But don't act broken
Even when you're broken
It's just one of those things..."

- Hawksley Workman, "Don't Be Crushed"