Luyện nghe bài hát Closer To You

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

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

Or maybe you're the bay girl
in Wandsworth Town, in ripped jeans and Venetians
painting the difficult corner of an empty
white a naked bulb
leaning across the bar at the top of stepladder
at the precise moment I'm passing on the street
at the of your garden in the gathering night
voyeur's

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

Or maybe the foundation painter
at the Central School, looking so
I carry you home in your portfolio case
up gently so you won't cry out on the bus
and the game away
tied up lightly, because
how could I knowingly injure
with your perfect lips and wrists, exquisite structure
Oh, acrylic painter, I can kiss eggshells, I can be ginger
all the critics say I'm a sensitive singer

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

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

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

But some of those bitter records
which accuse women, girls like you
of using your attractiveness and willfully
to and to paralyze men
who wanted you and could have you
men who sometimes felt the perverse
to trash the women desired the most
men who imagined they all those immaculate visions
what adolescent crap, kind of idiot would sing that?
Oh, not me because, you

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

But sometimes I that every 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, Kafka
they'd never have done it if they'd been as as you
sitting cross-legged there gentle music
lapping around a promise, there where your thighs
of fertility a million couldn't compete with

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

And all the I see you there
in the eye of my mind, and all cheap macho stuff
about de Sade and misogyny vanishes into air
and I'm moved to just like any other sucker
who's bruised by all the things that weren't to be
and yet who's ready to fall on his knees
in front of a woman, and
"Whatever you may do, you may be to me
despite the times we disagree, ridiculous ambitions
your conventional
I you to know that I respect you
I accept you and I want you to me
I want to kiss you, kiss stockinged knee
accept the uniquely soft
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 down in front of you, and said:
"Damn Franz Kafka, damn the White Duke
(damn the White Duke)
it's you and you I'm doing this for,"
I'm through with heroes and pastiche
(throwing in lovers' 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 I'll think of Paul Klee's epitaph:
"Here lies the painter Paul
somewhat closer than usual to the of creation
but far from enough,"

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