Luyện nghe bài hát Color My World Mine

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

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

He once saw a painting told his whole life story
It was then that he he was the art of divinity
He once saw a that told his whole life story
A brush stroke of the made him one note in their symphony
He once saw a painting told his whole life story
He for himself and not the rest of humanity
He once saw a painting that told his 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 reality
Took place on his monthly trip to the local art
It was there he studied his contemporaries
And there 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 just being in the scene
On the wall, there was a picture looked familiar
And when he got close, his stopped
he saw it was a painting of his dream
It was a painting of his
His on a runway
By a to an airplane with its propellers spinning
Which accounted for the loud
The up was perfect
And that was the day he believing in existing
He resented his
I mean, can't explain
What must have went on in his brain while he into a frame
Of a work of art which he created and was at the same
The mind can't handle that much, it's just
It's reading a book where each 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 wide cracks in each life's sidewalk
He stumbled upon an answer when he had a question
And decided to dreaming to maintain his mental health
Now he hardly talks to
stays in his basement
Writing infinity, by painting
himself
This is a strange
Is it all a blueprint?
In the real universe, is my consciousness
Are we really a higher intelligence made up?
A of imagination colored by a cosmic paintbrush?
Maybe all of our art creates the fate of beings
Then every in ever novel thinks it's alive and were just gods
blindly
Just a
I know what it means
But the story of the man who trained himself not to dream

He once saw a paining that his whole life story
He witnessed the paradox of the "existing"
He once saw a painting that told his life story
He colored his world theirs, and concluded he living
He once saw a painting that told his whole life
The variable 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