Rooftops

On winter days, when the cold brings its own kind of curfew
On winter days, when the city’s quiet and the windows shimmer with TV lights
We’ll meet by the fire escape stairs
Wrapped in a dozen thin layers
On the rooftops together

We pick a spot where the red slates slope down to the drainpipes
We rest our feet on the chimney pots
Raise our glasses and toast to the view
As the traffic falls slowly away
The city lights blissfully fade
on the rooftops alone

We’ll sing as the sun sets
In hushed tones, in whispered two-part harmonies

Midnight comes, and the city’s sleeps quietly before us
Midnight comes, and the city falls into our hands
As the moonlight and street lights collide
Paints orange and grey across cumulus clouds
Midnight comes, and just for a second, you don’t need to tell me just
Hold my hands as the traffic lights pause across town
And the clocks stop, and the freight trains rest still in the sidings

As the city falls into our hands
I could run through the avenues
And you could do anything that you put your mind to

You’ll be some architect in the east end
You’ll be a singer in a West End musical that your parents have heard of

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