"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
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"