Luyện nghe bài hát Color My World Mine

I once met a man who trained himself not to
What he seems to have seen was a of everything
He's been painting pictures on canvas age thirteen
And claims he only exists in the mind of a higher
And I enjoy his work; mostly landscapes
But each one is focused on an easel the man paints himself painting himself
And all that's in his field
He said this was the only way he could himself real
since he could remember, he had one nightmare reoccur
But about ten years ago, it didn't matter
It of loud, distorted sounds echoing off the concrete
He ran on top of it in attempt to reach a
Now sometimes, he'd get so close but touch his destination
Which caused him frustration 'cause he didn't know what it meant
And by the end of the dream, he saw the scene a bird's eye
to witness his dead body laying on the cement

It was only to witness his dead body on the cement
At it freaked him out, but after a while he grew content
So he thought, "It's just a dream," and kept living his
Writing his on the canvas 'cause it sheds his planet light
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 was one I couldn't comprehend
I stopped being detective and listened to him as a friend
He

He once saw a painting that told his life story
It was that he knew he was the art of divinity
He once saw a painting that told his whole life
A stroke of the gods made him one note in their symphony
He once saw a painting that told his whole story
He spoke for himself and not the of humanity
He once saw a that 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 changed his whole
Took place on his monthly trip to the art gallery
It was there where he studied his
And where he nearly carried his sanity to a hole and buried it forever
It was a very day
The place was empty
And he got down his spine just being present in the scene
On the wall, there was a picture that familiar
And when he got close, his heart
cause he saw it was a painting of his
It was a painting of his
His on a runway
By a ladder to an airplane with its propellers
Which accounted for the noise
The match up was
And was the day he stopped believing in existing
He his creator
I mean, words can't
What must have went on in his brain he stared into a frame
Of a work of art which he created and was at the time
The mind can't handle that much, just insane
It's like reading a book where words describe your thoughts
And in quotations, it reads whatever you say when you
You it can't happen
But it did
I guess there's surprisingly wide in each life's sidewalk
He stumbled upon an answer when he never had a
And decided to stop dreaming to his mental health
Now he hardly to people
Just in his basement
Writing infinity, by himself
himself
This is a universe
Is it all just a
In the universe, is my consciousness useless?
Are we really a higher intelligence made up?
A figment of colored by a cosmic paintbrush?
Maybe all of our art creates the of other beings
Then every character in ever thinks it's alive and were just gods
blindly
Just a
I know what it means
But that's the story of the man who trained not to dream

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