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 left her, and of long ago,
When she used color carelessly, painted his
A thousand times, or maybe his smile,
Her and her canvas would follow him wherever he go

'Cause they were and they were painting themselves
A world

Oil streaked daisies covered the living walls
He put water colored 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 it an art to live by
They painted every passion, every home, created beautiful child
In the winter they were of warmth,
In the summer they were of love
They thought blue prints were too sad so they made them

And were painters and they had painted themselves
A lovely

Until one day the rain fell as 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 time she got there, she he already had gone
She got to where he lay, water roses in his hands for her
She threw down screaming, "Damn you man, don't leave me
With nothing left behind but these cold paintings, cold 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 four
Love, I leave, but only a little, this holds me still
My body may die now, but paintings are real"
La li lai la li lai la li lai

So many came and many seasons went
And many she saw her love's face watering 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 were and they had painted themselves
A lovely

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

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