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(Originally performed by Momus: The Guitar Lesson)The pupil is twelve, attractive withdrawnIn a midnight blue school uniformLips just a little too full for her faceDistant eyes full of spaceIn her posture no trace of coquetteNo defianceShe fingers the frets looking forlornCrossing her legs where her tights have been tornStarts as her mother comes into the roomAnd the afternoon grows stillAnd her mother feels a chillSongtexteShivers and buttons her coatI gently correct the curve of her backAnd open her book in the now empty flatAt the classical piece I've had her prepareAnd her arms are bare as she playsAnd I draw back behind her earA few strands of hair gone astrayShe shows me her bracelet, the lesson is doneI turn it around between finger and thumWe sit face to face and it seems to me thatHer face is the face of a catAnd touching the place where her breasts will beI press my hand flatShe comes into my lap, I turn her aroundHer hands clasp my neck and her feet skim the groundHer skirt travels up under my palmBut the pupil sits looking so calmAs if listening to the distant sound of a burglar alarm.What happened next it's hard to recallThe guitar lesson left no traces at allNow from afar it seems to resembleA strange composition in oilOf a man, a guitar and an innocent little girl Aus Songtexte Mania