Luyện nghe bài hát Color My World Mine

I once met a man who trained himself not to
he seems to have seen was a glimpse of everything
He's painting pictures on canvas since age thirteen
And claims he exists in the mind of a higher being
And I his work; mostly scenic landscapes
But one is focused on an easel where the man paints himself painting himself
And all that's in his visual
He said this was the way he could make himself real
Ever he could remember, he had one nightmare reoccur
But until about ten years ago, it didn't
It consisted of loud, sounds echoing off the concrete
He ran on top of it in attempt to a ladder
Now sometimes, he'd get so close but never touch his
Which caused him much frustration 'cause he know what it meant
And by the end of the dream, he saw the from a bird's eye
to witness his dead body laying on the cement

It was only to witness his dead laying on the cement
At first it freaked him out, but after a while he content
So he thought, "It's just a dream," and living his life
Writing his soul on the canvas 'cause it sheds his planet
And it goes on and on space and time, ain't nothing odd
It's not that he didn't believe, he just didn't of God
His experience was one I comprehend
'Till I stopped detective and listened to him as a friend
He

He once saw a painting that told his life story
It was then he knew he was the art of divinity
He once saw a painting that told his life story
A brush stroke of the made him one note in their symphony
He once saw a painting that told his whole life
He spoke for himself and not the of humanity
He once saw a painting told his whole life story
And I that I'm not real
God imagined me

It's I said
About ten years ago, the event that his whole reality
place on his monthly trip to the local art gallery
It was there he studied his contemporaries
And where he nearly carried his sanity to a hole and buried it forever
It was a mysterious day
The place was empty
And he got chills down his spine being present in the scene
On the wall, there was a picture that familiar
And when he got close, his heart
he saw it was a painting of his dream
It was a of his dream
His on a runway
By a to an airplane with its propellers spinning
Which for the loud noise
The up was perfect
And was the day he stopped believing in existing
He resented his
I mean, words explain
What must have went on in his while he stared into a frame
Of a of art which he created and was at the same time
The can't handle that much, it's just insane
It's like reading a where each words describe your thoughts
And in quotations, it reads whatever you say when you
You think it happen
But it did
I guess there's wide cracks in each life's sidewalk
He stumbled upon an answer when he never had a
And decided to stop dreaming to maintain his health
Now he hardly talks to
Just stays in his
Writing infinity, by himself
himself
This is a universe
Is it all just a
In the real universe, is my consciousness
Are we really a higher intelligence made up?
A figment of imagination colored by a cosmic
Maybe all of our art creates the of other beings
Then every character in ever novel thinks it's alive and were just
blindly
Just a
I don't know it means
But that's the story of the man who trained not to dream

He once saw a paining that told his life story
He the paradox of the word "existing"
He once saw a painting that told his life story
He colored his theirs, and concluded he wasn't living
He once saw a painting that his whole life story
The hidden that all that is is art
And I close my eyes, I see eternity as a story
A God imagined the God that me
And I am God
And so on