paroles de chanson Pornographer's Dream - Suzanne Vega
She's
a
pornographer's
dream,
he
said.
I
knew
what
he
meant.
But
it
made
me
imagine:
what
kind
of
a
dream
He
would
have,
that
hadn't
been
spent?
Would
he
still
dream
of
the
thigh?
of
the
flesh
upon
high?
What
he
saw
so
much
of?
Wouldn't
he
dream
of
the
thing
that
he
never
Could
quite
get
the
touch
of?
It's
out
of
his
hands,
over
his
head
Out
of
his
reach,
under
this
real
life
Hidden
in
veils,
covered
in
silk
He's
dreaming
of
what
might
be
Out
of
his
hands,
over
his
head
Out
of
his
reach,
under
this
real
life
Hidden
in
veils,
He's
dreaming
of
mystery.
Bettie
Page
is
still
the
rage
With
her
legs
and
leather;
She
turns
to
tease
the
camera,
and
please
us
at
home,
And
we
let
her.
Who's
to
know
what
she'll
show
of
herself,
In
what
measure?
If
what
she
reveals,
or
what
she
conceals,
Is
the
key
to
our
pleasure?
It's
out
of
our
hands,
over
our
heads
Out
of
our
reach,
under
this
real
life
Hidden
in
veils,
covered
in
silk
We're
dreaming
of
what
might
be
It's
out
of
our
hands,
over
our
heads
Out
of
our
reach,
under
this
real
life
Hidden
in
veils
We're
dreaming
of
mystery.
She's
a
pornographer's
dream,
he
said.
I
knew
what
he
meant.
But
it
made
me
imagine:
what
kind
of
a
dream
He
would
have?
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