Suzanne Vega - Pornoghrapher~s Dream
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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