Luyện nghe bài hát Painters

Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the porch
Watching the clouds by
They remind her of her lover, how he her, and of times long ago,
When she used carelessly, painted his portrait
A thousand times, or just his smile,
Her and her canvas follow him wherever he would go

'Cause they were and they were painting themselves
A lovely

Oil streaked daisies covered the living walls
He put colored roses in her hair
He said, "Love, I you,
I want to you the mountains, the sunshine,
The too
I want to give you a as beautiful as you are to me"

'Cause I'm a and I want to paint you
A way

So they sat down and made a drawing of love,
They made it an art to by
They painted passion, every home, created every beautiful child
In the winter they were of warmth,
In the they were carpenters of love
They thought blue were too sad so they made them yellow

And they painters and they had painted themselves
A world

Until one day the rain fell as thick as oil
And in her she knew something was wrong
She went through the orchard screaming,
"No God, take him from me!"
But by the she got there, she feared he already had gone
She got to where he lay, colored roses in his hands for her
She threw down screaming, "Damn you man, don't leave me
With nothing behind but these cold paintings, these cold portraits
To me!"

He said, "Love I only a little, try to understand
I put my in this life we've created with these four hands
Love, I leave, but only a little, this world me still
My body may die now, but these are real"
La li lai la li lai la li lai

So seasons came and many seasons went
And many times she saw her love's face the flowers,
Talking to the and singing to his children,
And when the blew, she knew he was listening,
And how he seemed to laugh along, and how he seemed to her
When she was

'Cause they painters and they had painted themselves
A world

Eighty years, an old lady now, on the front porch
Watching the clouds by
They remind her of her lover, how he left her, and of times ago,
When she used color carelessly, painted his
A thousand times, or maybe his smile,
Her and her canvas follow him wherever he would go
Yes, she and her canvas follow

'Cause are painters and they are painting themselves
A
'Cause they are and they are painting themselves
A lovely