There’s a café on the west side of the street,
In a small, bustling alley by my subway station.
It’s a cozy spot with smooth jazz and dim lights,
She’s there in a white dress that reaches her knees.
And I can’t help but like her so much,
She smiles at me so beautifully,
Like she’s been waiting to see me all along.
Every Friday night at that café,
I always meet her again.
With low lights and a jazz band,
Her bright smile and sparkling eyes shine even more.
The coffee’s hot, and the cream is sweet,
I’m falling for her short greetings once more.
I ask her for a handshake,
Just wanting to touch her hand for a moment.
I try to say, “Would you like to sit with me?”
But she smiles and replies,
“You know I  have no choice.”
Every Friday night at that old café,
I always meet her again.
With low lights and a jazz band,
Her bright smile and sparkling eyes shine even more.
Sometimes I dream of her in that white dress,
And the lovely way she softly whispers to me.
But when I wake up,
She’s not there.
Just the memories of her in that café,
Sometimes fill me with a happy smile.
This Friday,
I'll wait for you until work is over.
And I’ll tell her how I feel
Every Friday night at that old café,
I always meet her again.
With low lights and a jazz band,
Her bright smile and sparkling eyes shine even more.
This Friday,
I'll wait for you until work is over.
And I’ll tell her how I feel
Every Friday night at that old café,
I always meet her again.
With low lights and a jazz band,
Her bright smile and sparkling eyes shine even more.