Friday, 4pm, in front of the cathedral
The bells are still ringing in the steeple
At the rendez-vous beneath the city walls
Each minute is an eternity
I hear your voice calling me
I look in the crowd without finding you
I'm waiting on the bench of the deserted
I'm waiting, all alone among the thousands
At every moment, I hope to find you
Next to me on the bench of the deserted
Friday, 5pm, people are in a hurry
Only the pigeons and the tourists are staying
The lovers meet on the banks under the bridge
They intertwine tightly and kiss goodbye
I hear your voice calling me
I look in the crowd without finding you
I'm waiting on the bench of the deserted
I'm waiting, all alone among the thousands
At every moment, I hope to find you
Next to me on the bench of the deserted
Friday, 7pm, the square is uncrowded
There's no more sun in the dales of this city
The shadows of the trees meet at my feet
Like the rising tide on the bench of the deserted
I hear your voice calling me
I look in the crowd without finding you
I'm waiting on the bench of the deserted
I'm waiting, all alone among the thousands
At every moment, I hope to find you
Next to me on the bench of the deserted
Of the deserted
Of the deserted