We're all coming to meet each other.
Separated by births and deaths and miles and lives.
But we're all going to meet each other on the roof.

She's from the sunshine state and he's from brooklyn,
and Vegas and Virginia and the great North Wet and somewhere deep in Georgia.
But we're all together now, dining under the setting sun seven floors above
the world and the Upper West side.

Nineteen and fourty seven, but they both love icecream
and there's no denying we're all breathing the same air.
The same sweet seventh floor rooftop air.

It's sweetened, now that we're all together. And milk and honey
seem to flavor this glorious rooftop air.

Sun set and the river keeps flowing and we keep
knowing that we're all in this together.

I'm sure we'll all end up together.
I'm sure that we're all going to live together.