Афонина Татьяна фотограф Москва
505 3 часа назад

Текст песни Eyedea - Color My World Mine

Eyedea - Color My World Mine слова песни




I once met a man who trained himself not to dreamWhat he seems to have seen was a glimpse of everythingHe`s been painting pictures on canvas since age thirteenAnd claims he only exists in the mind of a higher beingAnd I enjoy his work; mostly scenic landscapesBut each one is focused on an easel where the man paints himself painting himselfAnd all that`s in his visual fieldHe said this was the only way he could make himself realEver since he could remember, he had one nightmare reoccurBut until about ten years ago, it didn`t matterIt consisted of loud, distorted sounds echoing off the concreteHe ran on top of it in attempt to reach a ladderNow sometimes, he`d get so close but never touch his destinationWhich caused him much frustration `cause he didn`t know what it meantAnd by the end of the dream, he saw the scene from a bird`s eyeOnly to witness his dead body laying on the cementIt was only to witness his dead body laying on the cementAt first it freaked him out, but after a while he grew contentSo he thought, "It`s just a dream," and kept living his lifeWriting his soul on the canvas `cause it sheds his planet lightAnd it goes on and on like space and time, ain`t nothing oddIt`s not that he didn`t believe, he just didn`t approve of GodHis experience was one I couldn`t comprehend`Till I stopped being detective and listened to him as a friendHe said[Chorus]He once saw a painting that told his whole life storyIt was then that he knew he was the art of divinityHe once saw a painting that told his whole life storyA brush stroke of the gods made him one note in their symphonyHe once saw a painting that told his whole life storyHe spoke for himself and not the rest of humanityHe once saw a painting that told his whole life storyAnd I realize that I`m not realGod just imagined meIt`s like I saidAbout ten years ago, the event that changed his whole realityTook place on his monthly trip to the local art galleryIt was there where he studied his contemporariesAnd there where he nearly carried his sanity to a hole and buried it foreverIt was a very mysterious dayThe place was almost emptyAnd he got chills down his spine just being present in the sceneOn the wall, there was a picture that looked familiarAnd when he got close, his heart stoppedcause he saw it was a painting of his dreamIt was a painting of his dreamHis body on a runwayBy a ladder to an airplane with its propellers spinningWhich accounted for the loud noiseThe match up was perfectAnd that was the day he stopped believing in existingHe resented his creatorI mean, words can`t explainWhat must have went on in his brain while he stared into a frameOf a work of art which he created and was at the same timeThe mind can`t handle that much, it`s just insaneIt`s like reading a book where each words describe your thoughtsAnd in quotations, it reads whatever you say when you talkYou think it can`t happenBut it did happenI guess there`s surprisingly wide cracks in each life`s sidewalkHe stumbled upon an answer when he never had a questionAnd decided to stop dreaming to maintain his mental healthNow he hardly talks to peopleJust stays in his basementWriting infinity, by painting himselfPainting himselfThis is a strange universeIs it all just a blueprint?In the real universe, is my consciousness useless?Are we really something a higher intelligence made up?A figment of imagination colored by a cosmic paintbrush?Maybe all of our art creates the fate of other beingsThen every character in ever novel thinks it`s alive and were just godsRuling blindlyJust a theoryI don`t know what it meansBut that`s the story of the man who trained himself not to dream[Chorus]He once saw a paining that told his whole life storyHe witnessed the paradox of the word "existing"He once saw a painting that told his whole life storyHe colored his world theirs, and concluded he wasn`t livingHe once saw a painting that told his whole life storyThe hidden variable that all that is is artAnd when I close my eyes, I see eternity as a storyA God imagined the God that imagined meAnd I am GodAnd so on

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