The white paper sheet, all naked, all white
Enters at midnight at Mister Adrien's.
Adrien is my pal, is my fountain pen.
"Come on!" I tell him "You have to earn your living."
Notice, we go from surprise to surprise.
We are not fashion designers at 2 a.m.
And Madam, tonight, does not want any cashmere
And refuses to wear a rabbitskin coat.
Don't do any manners! Come and get my song dressed!
Would you like to be the most beautiful from my collection?
Some nights like these, they have luxurious tastes.
They would like to be dolled up in no time at all.
If they believe that I lose my time, that it pleases me
To look for the fabric and the whole caboodle.
"Hey you" she tells me "You are not very kind!
I wish I could have better stayed in a bookshop
Instead of ending in a little loser's hands
Who crosses me out and leaves me while Mister thinks."
You should have preferred remaining at school
In the hands of kids who would get your dress dirty
Who would make stains, cover you with glue
Unless they did little blots on your breast.
Don't do any manners! Come and get my song dressed!
Would you like to be the most beautiful from my collection?
At the moment when Adrien caresses your lower back
You, the sheet, will become Valentine.
Made to measure, perfect first-rate.
A lovers' story that will walk without crutches.
But from now on, they will take pictures of the model.
They will reproduce the model in shop windows.
On record sleeves, they will see the large pins
I satin finished circa 3 a.m.
But the sheet, the real one, the original
Was not left in the lurch, behind my books.
I pay a little visit when I turn the pages.
Hey! My friend Adrien salutes you!
You don't do any manners any more, you get my song dressed.
You are the one I prefer from my collection.
The white paper sheet, all naked, all white
Enters at midnight at Mister Adrien's.
Adrien is my pal, is my fountain pen.
"Come on!" I tell him "You have to earn your living."
The white paper sheet, all naked, all white Enters at midnight at Mister Adrien's. Adrien is my pal, is my fountain pen. "Come on!" I tell him "You have to earn your living." Notice, we go from surprise to surprise. We are not fashion designers at 2 a.m. And Madam, tonight, does not want any cashmere And refuses to wear a rabbitskin coat.
Don't do any manners! Come and get my song dressed! Would you like to be the most beautiful from my collection? Some nights like these, they have luxurious tastes. They would like to be dolled up in no time at all. If they believe that I lose my time, that it pleases me To look for the fabric and the whole caboodle.
"Hey you" she tells me "You are not very kind! I wish I could have better stayed in a bookshop Instead of ending in a little loser's hands Who crosses me out and leaves me while Mister thinks." You should have preferred remaining at school In the hands of kids who would get your dress dirty Who would make stains, cover you with glue Unless they did little blots on your breast.
Don't do any manners! Come and get my song dressed! Would you like to be the most beautiful from my collection? At the moment when Adrien caresses your lower back You, the sheet, will become Valentine. Made to measure, perfect first-rate. A lovers' story that will walk without crutches.
But from now on, they will take pictures of the model. They will reproduce the model in shop windows. On record sleeves, they will see the large pins I satin finished circa 3 a.m. But the sheet, the real one, the original Was not left in the lurch, behind my books. I pay a little visit when I turn the pages. Hey! My friend Adrien salutes you!
You don't do any manners any more, you get my song dressed. You are the one I prefer from my collection. The white paper sheet, all naked, all white Enters at midnight at Mister Adrien's. Adrien is my pal, is my fountain pen. "Come on!" I tell him "You have to earn your living."
"Circa 3:20 a.m." instead of "3 a.m."
"Circa 3:20 a.m." instead of "3 a.m."