Tiny Goddess
Francoise Hardy · En Anglais [1968]
(Patrick Campbell-Lyons/Alex Spyropoulos)
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.
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.