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