Luyện nghe bài hát Closer To You

And maybe you're the Circle girl
trying so hard not to let on you
I'm looking at the way your toes out through your sandals
at funny to your feet
and how you know it me on

Or maybe you're the Spanish
playing your hair as you wait for your friend
in that wild octagon of mirrors the Tate calls a shop
And I can smell that from here
and I can see from eight angles
the way your nipples look through that thin black top
reflected to
And oh God, it's like that and purple-tipped prose like this
going to hemorrhage me, girl

Ooo, it's
Girl, I'm only doing it to be to you

Or maybe you're the bay girl
in Wandsworth Town, in jeans and open Venetians
painting the corner of an empty room
white a naked bulb
across the bar at the top of your stepladder
at the precise moment I'm passing on the street
at the bottom of your in the gathering night
delight

Ooo, it's
Girl, I'm doing it to be closer to you

Or maybe you're the painter
at the School, looking so fine-boned
I could carry you home in portfolio case
laced up gently so you cry out on the bus
and give the game
tied up lightly, because
how could I knowingly someone
with your perfect lips and wrists, your structure
Oh, little painter, I can kiss eggshells, I can be ginger
all the critics say I'm such a sensitive

Ooo, true:
Girl, I'm only doing it to be to you

And maybe you're listening to my now
on your Walkman or your bedsit
letting my songs slip into you on quiet night
in with your pads of doodles and your fingers full of
and low tar
And the music's light and so you hardly notice
what I'm singing about in "Paper Rock"
And "Murderers, the of Women,"
my voice is a sound that pleases you
enters you and leaves you just the same
and that's how I it to stay, because, you know

Ooo, true:
Girl, I'm only it to be closer to you

But of those were bitter records
records accuse women, girls like you
of using your attractiveness and willfully
to and to paralyze men
who you and could never have you
men who sometimes felt the urge
to trash the women they the most
men who they despised all those immaculate visions
what adolescent crap, what kind of idiot sing that?
Oh, not me because, you

Ooo, true:
Girl, I'm only it to be closer to you

But sometimes I think that man who writes
man who paints or composes, deep soul or symphonies
it makes no difference, all men are only making do with substitutes:
Solomon, Confucius, Franz
they'd never have done it if been as beautiful as you
sitting there with gentle music
lapping around a promise, where your thighs meet
of fertility a million artists compete with

Ooo, true:
Girl, I'm only doing it to be to you

And all the time I see you
in the eye of my mind, and all that macho stuff
about de Sade and misogyny vanishes thin air
and I'm moved to tears just like any sucker
who's been bruised by all the that weren't to be
and yet ready to fall down on his knees
in front of a woman, and
"Whatever you may do, you may be to me
despite the we disagree, your ridiculous ambitions
your conventional
I want you to know that I you
I accept you and I you to accept me
I want to kiss you, kiss your knee
accept the uniquely flesh
on the of your hips,"

Ooo, true:
Girl, I'm only it to be closer to you

And when won you
when I've fallen down in of you, and said:
"Damn Franz Kafka, damn the Thin White
(damn the White Duke)
you and you alone I'm doing this for,"
When I'm through with heroes and
(throwing darts in eyes)
when you've let me love to you
the slowest, way that I know how
(when you do for me, baby)
and it feels so good (bear me)
that's when I'll think of Paul Klee's
"Here lies the Paul Klee
somewhat than usual to the heart of creation
but far from enough,"

And girl, I lie
far close enough to you...