Luyện nghe bài hát Pornoghrapher's Dream

She's a dream, he said.
I knew he meant.
But it me imagine: what kind of a dream
He have, that hadn't been spent?

Would he still dream of the thigh? of the upon high?
he saw so much of?
Wouldn't he dream of the thing that he
quite get the touch of?

It's out of his hands, over his
Out of his reach, under real life
in veils, covered in silk
He's of what might be

Out of his hands, over his
Out of his reach, under real life
in veils,
He's of mystery.

Page is still the rage
With her legs and
She turns to the camera, and please us at home,
And we let her.

Who's to know she'll show of herself,
In what
If she reveals, or what she conceals,
Is the key to our

It's out of our hands, over our
Out of our reach, this real life
Hidden in veils, in silk
We're dreaming of might be

It's out of our hands, over our
Out of our reach, this real life
Hidden in
We're of mystery.

She's a dream, he said.
I what he meant.
But it made me what kind of a dream
He have?