ographers Dream
Suzanne Vega
Letra

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she s a ographer 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 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.


she s a ographer 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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