Franz Hals

When you gonna paint me with your satin brush?
When you gonna flick my big moustache?
Are the frills I'm wearing really to your taste?
When you gonna make my clothing paste?

Franz Hals, Franz Hals, Franz Hals.
Franz Hals, Franz Hals, Franz Hals.

Paint me as your mother in her rocking chair.
Show me every strand of silver hair.
Dress me in formica if it suits the scene.
Are you gonna paint yourself a dream?

Franz Hals, Franz Hals, Franz Hals.
Franz Hals, Franz Hals, Franz Hals.

Every day that passes is another lost.
Every morning soon becomes the night.
When you gonna paint me baby, in my hat?
When you gonna make me look like that?

Franz Hals, Franz Hals, Franz Hals.
Franz Hals, Franz Hals, Franz Hals.