Luyện nghe bài hát Pornoghrapher's Dream

She's a dream, he said.
I knew he meant.
But it made me imagine: kind of a dream
He would have, that been spent?

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

It's out of his hands, his head
Out of his reach, this real life
Hidden in veils, covered in
He's of what might be

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

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

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

It's out of our hands, our heads
Out of our reach, under real life
Hidden in veils, covered in
We're dreaming of might be

It's out of our hands, our heads
Out of our reach, under this life
in veils
We're of mystery.

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