Luyện nghe bài hát Closer To You

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

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

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

Or maybe the bay window girl
in Town, in ripped jeans and open Venetians
the difficult corner of an empty room
white under a naked
leaning the bar at the top of your stepladder
at the precise moment I'm passing on the steep
at the bottom of your garden in the gathering
delight

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

Or maybe the foundation painter
at the Central School, so fine-boned
I could carry you home in portfolio case
laced up so you won't cry out on the bus
and give the game
up lightly, because girl
how could I knowingly injure
with your perfect lips and wrists, your structure
Oh, little acrylic painter, I can eggshells, I can be ginger
all the say I'm such a sensitive singer

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

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

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

But some of those bitter records
which accuse women, girls like you
of using attractiveness wantonly and willfully
to trap and to men
who wanted you and could never you
men who sometimes felt the perverse
to trash the women desired the most
men who imagined despised all those immaculate visions
what adolescent crap, what kind of idiot would that?
Oh, not me because, you

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

But sometimes I think that every man who
every man who or composes, deep soul or symphonies
it makes no difference, all those men are only making do with
Solomon, Confucius, Franz
they'd never have it if they'd been as beautiful as you
cross-legged there with gentle music
lapping around a promise, there where thighs meet
of fertility a million artists couldn't with

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

And all the I see you there
in the eye of my mind, and all that macho stuff
about de Sade and misogyny into thin air
and I'm moved to tears just like any sucker
who's been bruised by all the things that to be
and yet who's to fall down on his knees
in of a woman, and say:
"Whatever you may do, you may be to me
despite the times we disagree, your ridiculous
your conventional
I you to know that I respect you
I accept you and I want you to me
I to kiss you, kiss your stockinged knee
the uniquely soft flesh
on the of your hips,"

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

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

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