Sitting at the top
Spinning, talking, dreaming
Watching as the world
Took another meaning
Runaways from home
Love becomes our shelter
Twenty-seventh floor
I couldn't ask for more
This could be the end
It's too soon to tell
Keep holding' my hand
Keep on raising hell
Bursting at the seams
I try to stay polite
I Just wish that we
Felt like summer nights
Oh something that was real
Never gonna end
Instead we sit in silence
Day out and day in
Oh this could be the end
It's too soon to tell
Keep holding' my hand
Keep on raising hell
Keep on raising hell
