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 glimpse of
He's been pictures on canvas since age thirteen
And claims he only in the mind of a higher being
And I enjoy his mostly scenic landscapes
But each one is focused on an easel where the man himself painting himself
And all that's in his visual
He said this was the only way he could himself real
Ever since he remember, he had one nightmare reoccur
But until about ten years ago, it didn't
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 never his destination
Which him much frustration 'cause he didn't know what it meant
And by the end of the dream, he saw the scene a bird's eye
Only to witness his dead body laying on the

It was only to his dead body laying on the cement
At first it freaked him out, but a while he grew content
So he thought, "It's just a dream," and kept his life
Writing his soul on the canvas it sheds his planet light
And it goes on and on like and time, ain't nothing odd
It's not he didn't believe, he just didn't approve of God
His experience was one I comprehend
'Till I stopped being detective and to him as a friend
He

He once saw a painting that told his whole life
It was that he knew he was the art of divinity
He once saw a painting that told his life story
A brush stroke of the made him one note in their symphony
He once saw a painting that told his life story
He spoke for himself and not the of humanity
He once saw a that told his whole life story
And I realize I'm not real
God imagined me

It's I said
About ten years ago, the event changed his whole reality
Took place on his monthly trip to the art gallery
It was where he studied his contemporaries
And there where he nearly carried his sanity to a hole and it forever
It was a mysterious day
The was almost empty
And he got chills down his spine just being in the scene
On the wall, there was a picture looked familiar
And he got close, his heart stopped
he saw it was a painting of his dream
It was a of his dream
His on a runway
By a ladder to an with its propellers spinning
Which accounted for the noise
The up was perfect
And that was the day he stopped believing in
He his creator
I mean, can't explain
What have went on in his brain while he stared into a frame
Of a work of art which he created and was at the same
The mind handle that much, it's just insane
It's like reading a book where each words describe your
And in quotations, it reads whatever you say when you
You think it happen
But it did
I guess there's surprisingly wide cracks in each sidewalk
He stumbled an answer when he never had a question
And to stop dreaming to maintain his mental health
Now he hardly talks to
Just in his basement
Writing infinity, by himself
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 figment of imagination colored by a cosmic
Maybe all of our art the fate of other beings
Then every character in ever novel thinks it's alive and were just
blindly
Just a
I don't what it means
But that's the of the man who trained himself not to dream

He once saw a paining that told his whole story
He witnessed the paradox of the "existing"
He once saw a painting that told his 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 close my eyes, I see eternity as a
A God imagined the God that me
And I am God
And so on