Luyện nghe bài hát Painters

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

'Cause they were painters and they were painting
A world

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 world as as you are to me"

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

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

And they were painters and they had painted
A lovely

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

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

So many seasons came and many seasons
And many she saw her love's face watering the flowers,
Talking to the trees and to his children,
And when the wind blew, she he was listening,
And how he seemed to laugh along, and how he to hold her
she was crying

'Cause they were painters and they had painted
A lovely

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

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