Luyện nghe bài hát Closer To You

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

Or maybe you're the girl
with your hair as you wait for your friend
in that wild octagon of mirrors the Tate a coffee shop
And I can smell that hair from
and I can see eight different angles
the way your nipples look through that thin cotton top
reflected to
And oh God, places 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 you're the bay window girl
in Wandsworth Town, in ripped and open Venetians
painting the difficult corner of an empty
white a naked bulb
across the bar at the top of your stepladder
at the moment I'm passing on the steep street
at the bottom of your garden in the night
voyeur's

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

Or you're the foundation painter
at the Central School, looking so
I could carry you home in your portfolio
laced up so you won't cry out on the bus
and give the away
tied up lightly, girl
how could I injure someone
with your perfect lips and wrists, your exquisite
Oh, little acrylic painter, I can kiss eggshells, I can be
all the critics say I'm such a singer

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

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

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

But some of were bitter records
records which accuse women, like you
of using your wantonly and willfully
to trap and to men
who wanted you and never have you
men who felt the perverse urge
to trash the they desired the most
men who imagined they all those immaculate visions
what adolescent crap, what kind of idiot would sing
Oh, not me because, you

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

But I think that every man who writes
every man who paints or composes, deep soul or
it makes no difference, all men are only making do with substitutes:
Solomon, Confucius, Kafka
never have done it if they'd been as beautiful as you
sitting cross-legged there with music
lapping around a promise, there where thighs meet
of fertility a million couldn't compete with

Ooo, true:
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 that macho stuff
about de Sade and misogyny vanishes into 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 ready to fall on his knees
in front of a woman, and
"Whatever you may do, you may be to me
the times we disagree, your ridiculous ambitions
your inhibitions
I want you to know that I you
I you and I want you to accept me
I want to you, kiss your stockinged knee
accept the uniquely soft
on the undersides of hips,"

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

And when won you
when I've down in front of you, and said:
"Damn Franz Kafka, the Thin White Duke
(damn the Thin Duke)
it's you and you alone I'm this for,"
When I'm with heroes and pastiche
(throwing darts in 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 when I'll of Paul Klee's epitaph:
"Here lies the Paul Klee
closer than usual to the heart of creation
but far from enough,"

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