Tiny Goddess - Françoise Hardy

Tiny goddess wrapped in lace, that certain smile upon your face

Is telling me what’s to be when he leaves

In a room just five foot eight, I sit alone and I will wait

To hear from him, to wait for him to call me Don’t let him humour me with letters I won’t read

Please sympathise with me, if only you could speak

Photograph that’s in my case will travel with me every place

Reminding me what to be for his love

Orchards smell of sweet perfume, the mountain side is now in bloom

And I am here, waiting for his company

Don’t let him humour me with letters I won’t read

The clock’s at half past three, it’s stopped awake like me Tiny goddess wrapped in lace, that certain smile upon your face

Is telling me what’s to be when he leaves

In a room just five foot eight, I sit alone and I will wait

To hear from him, to wait for him to call me.