Closer To You
Momus Lyrics


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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 through 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 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 hemorrhage me, girl

Ooo, 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

Ooo, 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
and give the game away
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

Ooo, 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 pleases you
that enters you and leaves you just the same
and that's how I want it to stay, because, you know

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

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

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

But 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 it 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

Ooo, 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 and misogyny vanishes into 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,"

Ooo, 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)
and it feels so good (bear with me)
that's when I'll think of Paul Klee's epitaph:
"Here lies the painter Paul Klee
somewhat closer than usual to the heart of creation
but far from close enough,"





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

Overall Meaning

The song 'Closer to You' by Momus highlights the singer's desire to be close to different women at different locations. He describes his fascination with their beauty and the little things they do that turn him on. He talks about bay window girls, foundation painters, and circle line girls, and how he's doing everything to be closer to them. The singer also hints at how some of his past songs have accused women of using their attractiveness to trap men, but he admits that he's only doing it all for the woman he desires the most. In the end, he expresses his longing and love for her, and how being close to her will bring him closer to the heart of creation.


The lyrics of 'Closer to You' are filled with vivid imagery that captures the singer's fascination with women. He describes the girls with their funny-angled toes, parted lips, and wild octagons of mirrors. He also talks about the little details that turn him on, such as the smell of the Spanish girl's hair and the way the bay window girl leans across the bar. Throughout the song, the singer is reflecting on his own behavior and past songs, and the emptiness he feels until he is close to the woman he desires. The lyrics are filled with emotion and longing, and they speak to the desire to be close to someone and to experience love.


Line by Line Meaning

And maybe you're the Circle Line girl
Perhaps you're the girl I see on the Circle Line train


trying so hard not to let on you know
Trying to hide the fact that you know I am watching you


I'm looking at the way your toes poke out through your sandals
I'm observing the way your toes stick out of your sandals


at funny angles to your feet
They are positioned in a humorous way compared to your feet


and how you know it turns me on
And you are aware that it arouses me


Or maybe you're the Spanish girl
Or maybe you're the girl from Spain


playing with your hair as you wait for your friend
Tossing your hair around while waiting for your friend


in that wild octagon of mirrors the Tate calls a coffee shop
In the Tate's coffee shop full of mirrors arranged in an octagon shape


And I can smell that hair from here
I can detect the scent of your hair even from a distance


and I can see from eight different angles
And I can view you from eight different perspectives


the way your nipples look through that thin black cotton top
The way your nipples are visible through your thin black cotton top


reflected to infinity
Their reflection stretching infinitely


And oh God, it's places like that and purple-tipped prose like this
Oh God, it's locations like that and poetic writing like this


that's going to hemorrhage me, girl
That will emotionally impact me deeply, girl


Or maybe you're the bay window girl
Or perhaps you're the girl by the bay window


in Wandsworth Town, in ripped jeans and open Venetians
Wearing torn jeans and with open Venetian blinds in Wandsworth Town


painting the difficult corner of an empty room
Painting the challenging corner of an empty room


white under a naked bulb
Using white paint under a bare lightbulb


leaning across the bar at the top of your stepladder
Bending over the top of your stepladder


at the precise moment I'm passing on the steep street
At the exact moment when I'm passing by on the steep street


at the bottom of your garden in the gathering night
At the end of your garden as night falls


voyeur's delight
A delight for someone who enjoys watching others


Or maybe you're the foundation painter
Or maybe you're the painter of foundations


at the Central School, looking so fine-boned
At the Central School, appearing delicate and elegant


I could carry you home in your portfolio case
I could transport you home in your portfolio case


laced up gently so you won't cry out on the bus
Tied softly to prevent you from making noise on the bus


and give the game away
And revealing our secret


tied up lightly, because girl
Bound loosely, my dear


how could I knowingly injure someone
How could I purposely harm someone


with your perfect lips and wrists, your exquisite structure
With your flawless lips, wrists, and overall beauty


Oh, little acrylic painter, I can kiss eggshells, I can be ginger
Oh, my dear painter, I can be gentle and cautious


all the critics say I'm such a sensitive singer
The critics all describe me as a sensitive singer


And maybe you're listening to my voice now
And perhaps you're listening to my voice now


on your Walkman or your bedsit Dansette
Using your Walkman or Dansette record player in your bedsit


letting my songs slip into you on this quiet night
Allowing my songs to flow into you on this peaceful night


in with your pads of doodles and your fingers full of pencils
Amidst your notepads filled with doodles and your fingers holding pencils


and low tar cigarettes
And smoking low tar cigarettes


And the music's light and pleasant so you hardly notice
The music is gentle and pleasant, so you barely pay attention


what I'm singing about in 'Paper Wraps Rock'
The subject of my song 'Paper Wraps Rock'


And 'Murderers, the Hope of Women,'
And in 'Murderers, the Hope of Women'


my voice is just a sound that pleases you
My voice is merely a pleasing sound to you


that enters you and leaves you just the same
That enters you and has no lasting impact


and that's how I want it to stay, because, you know
And that's how I desire it to remain, as you already know


But some of those were bitter records
However, some of those songs were bitter and resentful


records which accuse women, girls like you
Songs that blame women, girls like yourself


of using your attractiveness wantonly and willfully
Of exploiting your beauty casually and deliberately


to trap and to paralyze men
To ensnare and incapacitate men


who wanted you and could never have you
Men who desired you but could never possess you


men who sometimes felt the perverse urge
Men who occasionally felt the twisted desire


to trash the women they desired the most
To degrade the women they desired the most


men who imagined they despised all those immaculate visions
Men who believed they hated all those perfect visions


what adolescent crap, what kind of idiot would sing that?
What childish nonsense, what type of fool would sing such lyrics?


Oh, not me because, you know
Oh, not me because, as you know


But sometimes I think that every man who writes
But at times, I believe that every man who writes


every man who paints or composes, deep soul or symphonies
Every man who paints or composes, whether it's deep soul or symphonies


it makes no difference, all those men are only making do with substitutes
It doesn't matter, all those men are merely settling for substitutes


Solomon, Confucius, Franz Kafka
Referencing famous historical figures like Solomon, Confucius, and Franz Kafka


they'd never have done it if they'd been as beautiful as you
They would never have created their works if they were as beautiful as you


sitting cross-legged there with gentle music
Sitting there with crossed legs and soft music playing


lapping around a promise, there where your thighs meet
Surrounding a promise, at the point where your thighs come together


of fertility a million artists couldn't compete with
A level of fertility that no artist could ever rival


And all the time I see you there
And every time, I see you there


in the eye of my mind, and all that cheap macho stuff
In my imagination, and all those cheap macho behaviors


about de Sade and misogyny vanishes into thin air
Regarding de Sade and misogyny, it all disappears suddenly


and I'm moved to tears just like any other sucker
And I'm emotionally touched, just like any other vulnerable person


who's been bruised by all the things that weren't to be
Who has been hurt by all the things that couldn't happen


and yet who's ready to fall down on his knees
But still, I'm ready to humble myself


in front of a woman, and say:
In front of a woman, and express:


"Whatever you may do, whatever you may be to me
"No matter what you do or how you affect me


despite the times we disagree, your ridiculous ambitions
Even when we disagree and your ambitions seem silly


your conventional inhibitions
Your traditional reservations


I want you to know that I respect you
I want you to understand that I admire you


I accept you and I want you to accept me
I embrace you and I desire your acceptance


I want to kiss you, kiss your stockinged knee
I want to kiss you, kiss your knee covered in stockings


accept the uniquely soft flesh
Embrace the incredibly tender skin


on the undersides of your hips,"
On the lower parts of your hips,"


And when I've won you
And when I have won your heart


when I've fallen down in front of you, and said:
When I have knelt before you and declared:


"Damn Franz Kafka, damn the Thin White Duke
"To hell with Franz Kafka, to hell with the Thin White Duke


(damn the Thin White Duke)
(damn the Thin White Duke)


it's you and you alone I'm doing this for,"
It's solely for you that I'm doing all of this,"


When I'm through with heroes and pastiche
When I'm done with idols and imitations


(throwing darts in lovers' eyes)
(causing harm to lovers)


when you've let me make love to you
When you allow me to make love to you


the slowest, deepest way that I know how
In the slowest, most passionate way I am capable of


(when you do that for me, baby)
(when you satisfy me in that way, baby)


and it feels so good (bear with me)
And it feels so pleasurable (be patient with me)


that's when I'll think of Paul Klee's epitaph:
That's when I'll ponder Paul Klee's epitaph:


"Here lies the painter Paul Klee
"Here rests the painter Paul Klee


somewhat closer than usual to the heart of creation
A bit nearer to the core of creation than usual


but far from close enough,"
But still far from being close enough,"


And girl, here I lie
And my dear, here I am lying


far from close enough to you...
Still unable to be as close to you as I desire...




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Comments from YouTube:

Jeremy Boughey

One of the most beautiful songs ever. Big memory of travelling to London Chelsea Art College to see Momus sing this c.87/88. amazing lyricist and artist.

Jakob van Klinken

I love how he uses this romantic air of poetisism to get away with such absurd ideas - folding a girl up in a portfolio case because she's skinny? Having passionate sex that makes him think of an artists grace inscription? To be clear, I think he's well aware of the absurdity, and that's part of the song, and it's honestly what I like most about it, the Self Aware uncanniness of it

Frank Candido

Perfection

iravan

I hope that tea didn’t go cold untouched

Herbstregen89

Perferct
i like it

Dronto Ottrond

he looks so much better with long hair and a beard.

leoleo3000

Is Momus a misogynist? Is Momus the last great misogynist? Or an evolved sexual being? These are questions that still challenge me from listening to his music for 25 years . . .

Sadder Than You

Momus is a pervert, but at least he never tried to hide it.

Dronto Ottrond

Momus loves people and most of all women

MrManafon

@momasu genius

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