Suzanne Vega - Pornographers dream

^AmShe's a pornographer's dream, ^Dmhe said I knew what he meant. But it ^E7made me imagine: what kind of a dream He would h^Amave, that hadn't been spent? ^AmWould he still dream of the thigh? of the flesh upon high? What he ^Dmsaw so much of? ^E7Wouldn't he dream of the thing that he never Could q^Amuite get the touch of?

It's out of his^F hands, over his^G head Out of his^A reach, under this r^Ameal life Hidden in^F veils, covered in^G silk He's dreaming of^A what might be Out of his ha^Fnds, over his he^Gad Out of his^A reach, under this r^Ameal life Hidden in^F veils, ^G He's dreaming of mystery.

^AmBettie Page is still the rage With her le^Dmgs and leather; She^E7 turns to tease the camera, and please us at^Am home, And we let her.

^AmWho's to know what she'll show of h^Dmerself, in what measure? If^E7 what she reveals, or what she conceals, ^AmIs the key to our pleasure?

It's out of our^F hands, over our^G heads Out of our^A reach, under this r^A7eal life Hidden in^F veils, covered in^G silk We're dreaming of^A what might be

It's out of our^F hands, over our^G heads Out of our^A reach, under this rea^A7l life Hidden in v^Fei^Gls We're dreaming of^A mystery.

^AmShe's a pornographer's dream, he^Dm said I knew what he meant. But i^E7t made me imagine: what kind of a dream He would^Am have?