Luyện nghe bài hát Painters

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

'Cause were painters and they were painting themselves
A lovely

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

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

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

And they painters and they had painted themselves
A lovely

Until one day the rain as thick as black oil
And in her heart she knew something was
She went running through the screaming,
"No God, don't take him 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 down screaming, "Damn you man, don't me
With nothing left behind but these cold paintings, these portraits
To me!"

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

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

'Cause they painters and they had painted themselves
A lovely

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

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