Momus - Closer to You lyrics

And maybe you're the Circle Line girl
Trying so hard not to let
On you know I'm looking
At the way your toes poke out of your
Sandals, at funny angles to your feet
And how you know it turns me on

Or maybe you're the Spanish girl
Playing with your hair as you
Wait for your friend
In that wild octagon of mirrors the Tate
Calls a coffee shop and oh
I can smell that hair from
Here, and I can see from
Eight different angles the
Way your nipples look through that thin black
Cotton top
Reflected to infinity and oh God it's
Places like that and purple-tipped
Prose like this
That's going to haemorrhage me girl



Ooh it's true:
Girl I'm only doing it to be closer to you

Or maybe you're the bay window
Girl in Wandsworth Town
In ripped jeans and open
Venetians, painting the difficult corner
Of an empty room white under a naked bulb
Leaning across the bar at the top of your
Stepladder at the precise moment
I'm passing on
The steep street at the bottom of your
Garden in the gathering
Night voyeur's delight

Ooh it's true:
Girl I'm only doing it to be closer to you

Or maybe you're the foundation painter
At the Central School, looking so
Fine-boned I could carry you home
In your portfolio case
Laced up gently so you won't cry
Out on the bus on the
Way home, tied up lightly, because girl
How could I knowingly injure someone
With your perfect lips and
Wrists, your exquisite structure oh
Little acrylic painter, i
Can kiss eggshells, I can be ginger
All the critics say I'm
Such a sensitive singer

Ooh it's true:
Girl I'm only doing it to be closer to you

And maybe you're listening to my voice now
On your Walkman or your bedsit Dansette
Letting my songs slip into you on this quiet
Night in with your pads of doodles and
Your fingers full of pencils and low tar
Cigarettes and the music's light and pleasant
So you hardly notice what I'm
Singing about in 'Paper
Wraps Rock' and 'Murderers, the
Hope of Women', my voice is just a
Sound that please, s you
Enters you and leaves you just the
Same, and that's how I want
It to stay, because, you know

Ooh it's true:
Girl I'm only doing it to be closer to you

But some of those are bitter records, records
Which accuse women, girls like you
Of using your attractiveness
Wantonly and wilfully to trap
And to paralyse men
Who want them and can never have them
Men who sometimes feel the perverse urge to
Trash the women they desire the most
Who imagine they
Despise all those immaculate visions
What adolescent crap, what
Kind of idiot would sing that? Oh, not me

Ooh it's true:
Girl I'm only doing it to be closer to you

But, you know sometimes I think
That every man who writes, every man
Who paints or composes, deep soul or
Symphonies, it makes no difference
All those men are only making do with
Substitutes: Solomon, Confucius, Franz Kafka
They'd never have done
If they'd been as beautiful as you, sitting
Cross legged there with gentle
Music lapping around
A promise, there where your thighs meet
Of fertility a million artists
Couldn't compete with

Ooh it's true:
Girl I'm only doing it to be closer to you

And all the time I see you
There in the eye of my
Mind, and all that cheap macho
Stuff about de Sade, misogyny, vanish
In thin air and I'm moved to
Tears just like any other sucker
Who's been bruised by all the
Things that weren't to be
And yet who's ready to fall down on his
Knees in front of a woman and
Say "Whatever you may do, whatever you may
Be to me, despite the times we disagree
Your ridiculous ambitions, your
Conventional inhibitions
I want you to know that I respect you
I accept you and I want
You to accept me, I want to
Kiss you, kiss your stockinged knee
Accept the uniquely soft flesh on
The undersides of your hips"

Ooh it's true:
Girl I'm only doing it to be closer to you

And when I've won you
When I've fallen down in
Front of you and said "Damn Franz Kafka
Damn the Thin White Duke
(damn the Thin White Duke)
It's you and you alone I'm doing this for"
When I'm through with heroes and pastiche
(throwing darts in lovers' eyes)
When you've let me make love to you the
Slowest deepest way that I know how
(when you do that for me baby)
When I'm lying between those legs I longed so
Much for and it feels so good (everything)
That's when I'll think of Paul
Klee's epitaph: 'Here lies the
Painter Paul Klee, somewhat closer to the
Heart of creation than usual
But far from close enough'

And girl, here I lie
Far from close enough to you