My love lives on the 25th floor. The elevator does not work. You come and you don’t want anything anymore.

There was a beautiful song written about it more than half a century ago:

But she lives on the twentieth floor uptown
The elevator's broken down
So I’ll walk one, two flight, three flight, four
Five, six, seven flight, eight flight, more
Up on the twelfth I'm startin' to drag
Fifteenth floor I'm a-ready to sag
Get to the top, I'm too tired to rock