Midnight
In the middle of the Largo do Arouche
In front of the Flower Market
There's a French restaurant
And there, I waited for you
Midnight
In a scourging cold
The candy shop and its sweets
Will always offer
An iridescence of pleasure
And there's no way to deny
That the plate on bid
Won't make you salivate
In a small room of illusion
My dog that doesn't bark in vain
In the abrasive cold I meditate
Next time I won't be your customer
Midnight
In a scourging cold
The candy shop and its sweets
Will always offer
An iridescence of pleasure
And there's no way to deny
That the plate on bid
Won't make you salivate
In a small room of illusion
My dog that doesn't bark in vain
In the abrasive cold I meditated
Next time I won't be your customer