Color My World Mine 歌词

歌曲	Color My World Mine
歌手	Eyedea & Abilities
专辑	First Born
下载	Image LRC TXT

	作曲 : Abilities, Eyedea
	I once met a man who trained himself not to dream
	What he seems to have seen was a glimpse of everything
	He's been painting pictures on canvas since age thirteen
	And claims he only exists in the mind of a higher being
	And I enjoy his work; mostly scenic landscapes
	But each one is focused on an easel where the man paints himself painting himself
	And all that's in his visual field
	He said this was the only way he could make himself real
	Ever since he could remember, he had one nightmare reoccur
	But until about ten years ago, it didn't matter
	It consisted of loud, distorted sounds echoing off the concrete
	He ran on top of it in attempt to reach a ladder
	Now sometimes, he'd get so close but never touch his destination
	Which caused him much frustration 'cause he didn't know what it meant
	And by the end of the dream, he saw the scene from a bird's eye
	Only to witness his dead body laying on the cement
	It was only to witness his dead body laying on the cement
	At first it freaked him out, but after a while he grew content
	So he thought, "It's just a dream," and kept living his life
	Writing his soul on the canvas 'cause it sheds his planet light
	And it goes on and on like space and time, ain't nothing odd
	It's not that he didn't believe, he just didn't approve of God
	His experience was one I couldn't comprehend
	'Till I stopped being detective and listened to him as a friend
	He said
	[Chorus]
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	It was then that he knew he was the art of divinity
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	A brush stroke of the gods made him one note in their symphony
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	He spoke for himself and not the rest of humanity
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	And I realize that I'm not real
	God just imagined me
	It's like I said
	About ten years ago, the event that changed his whole reality
	Took place on his monthly trip to the local art gallery
	It was there where he studied his contemporaries
	And there where he nearly carried his sanity to a hole and buried it forever
	It was a very mysterious day
	The place was almost empty
	And he got chills down his spine just being present in the scene
	On the wall, there was a picture that looked familiar
	And when he got close, his heart stopped
	Cause he saw it was a painting of his dream
	It was a painting of his dream
	His body on a runway
	By a ladder to an airplane with its propellers spinning
	Which accounted for the loud noise
	The match up was perfect
	And that was the day he stopped believing in existing
	He resented his creator
	I mean, words can't explain
	What must 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 time
	The mind can't handle that much, it's just insane
	It's like reading a book where each words describe your thoughts
	And in quotations, it reads whatever you say when you talk
	You think it can't happen
	But it did happen
	I guess there's surprisingly wide cracks in each life's sidewalk
	He stumbled upon an answer when he never had a question
	And decided to stop dreaming to maintain his mental health
	Now he hardly talks to people
	Just stays in his basement
	Writing infinity, by painting himself
	Painting himself
	This is a strange universe
	Is 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 beings
	Then every character in ever novel thinks it's alive and were just gods
	Ruling blindly
	Just a theory
	I don't know what it means
	But that's the story of the man who trained himself not to dream
	[Chorus]
	He once saw a paining that told his whole life story
	He witnessed the paradox of the word "existing"
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	He colored his world theirs, and concluded he wasn't living
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	The hidden variable that all that is is art
	And when I close my eyes, I see eternity as a story
	A God imagined the God that imagined me
	And I am God
	And so on

	zuo qu : Abilities, Eyedea
	I once met a man who trained himself not to dream
	What he seems to have seen was a glimpse of everything
	He' s been painting pictures on canvas since age thirteen
	And claims he only exists in the mind of a higher being
	And I enjoy his work mostly scenic landscapes
	But each one is focused on an easel where the man paints himself painting himself
	And all that' s in his visual field
	He said this was the only way he could make himself real
	Ever since he could remember, he had one nightmare reoccur
	But until about ten years ago, it didn' t matter
	It consisted of loud, distorted sounds echoing off the concrete
	He ran on top of it in attempt to reach a ladder
	Now sometimes, he' d get so close but never touch his destination
	Which caused him much frustration ' cause he didn' t know what it meant
	And by the end of the dream, he saw the scene from a bird' s eye
	Only to witness his dead body laying on the cement
	It was only to witness his dead body laying on the cement
	At first it freaked him out, but after a while he grew content
	So he thought, " It' s just a dream," and kept living his life
	Writing his soul on the canvas ' cause it sheds his planet light
	And it goes on and on like space and time, ain' t nothing odd
	It' s not that he didn' t believe, he just didn' t approve of God
	His experience was one I couldn' t comprehend
	' Till I stopped being detective and listened to him as a friend
	He said
	Chorus
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	It was then that he knew he was the art of divinity
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	A brush stroke of the gods made him one note in their symphony
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	He spoke for himself and not the rest of humanity
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	And I realize that I' m not real
	God just imagined me
	It' s like I said
	About ten years ago, the event that changed his whole reality
	Took place on his monthly trip to the local art gallery
	It was there where he studied his contemporaries
	And there where he nearly carried his sanity to a hole and buried it forever
	It was a very mysterious day
	The place was almost empty
	And he got chills down his spine just being present in the scene
	On the wall, there was a picture that looked familiar
	And when he got close, his heart stopped
	Cause he saw it was a painting of his dream
	It was a painting of his dream
	His body on a runway
	By a ladder to an airplane with its propellers spinning
	Which accounted for the loud noise
	The match up was perfect
	And that was the day he stopped believing in existing
	He resented his creator
	I mean, words can' t explain
	What must 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 time
	The mind can' t handle that much, it' s just insane
	It' s like reading a book where each words describe your thoughts
	And in quotations, it reads whatever you say when you talk
	You think it can' t happen
	But it did happen
	I guess there' s surprisingly wide cracks in each life' s sidewalk
	He stumbled upon an answer when he never had a question
	And decided to stop dreaming to maintain his mental health
	Now he hardly talks to people
	Just stays in his basement
	Writing infinity, by painting himself
	Painting himself
	This is a strange universe
	Is 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 beings
	Then every character in ever novel thinks it' s alive and were just gods
	Ruling blindly
	Just a theory
	I don' t know what it means
	But that' s the story of the man who trained himself not to dream
	Chorus
	He once saw a paining that told his whole life story
	He witnessed the paradox of the word " existing"
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	He colored his world theirs, and concluded he wasn' t living
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	The hidden variable that all that is is art
	And when I close my eyes, I see eternity as a story
	A God imagined the God that imagined me
	And I am God
	And so on

	zuò qǔ : Abilities, Eyedea
	I once met a man who trained himself not to dream
	What he seems to have seen was a glimpse of everything
	He' s been painting pictures on canvas since age thirteen
	And claims he only exists in the mind of a higher being
	And I enjoy his work mostly scenic landscapes
	But each one is focused on an easel where the man paints himself painting himself
	And all that' s in his visual field
	He said this was the only way he could make himself real
	Ever since he could remember, he had one nightmare reoccur
	But until about ten years ago, it didn' t matter
	It consisted of loud, distorted sounds echoing off the concrete
	He ran on top of it in attempt to reach a ladder
	Now sometimes, he' d get so close but never touch his destination
	Which caused him much frustration ' cause he didn' t know what it meant
	And by the end of the dream, he saw the scene from a bird' s eye
	Only to witness his dead body laying on the cement
	It was only to witness his dead body laying on the cement
	At first it freaked him out, but after a while he grew content
	So he thought, " It' s just a dream," and kept living his life
	Writing his soul on the canvas ' cause it sheds his planet light
	And it goes on and on like space and time, ain' t nothing odd
	It' s not that he didn' t believe, he just didn' t approve of God
	His experience was one I couldn' t comprehend
	' Till I stopped being detective and listened to him as a friend
	He said
	Chorus
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	It was then that he knew he was the art of divinity
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	A brush stroke of the gods made him one note in their symphony
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	He spoke for himself and not the rest of humanity
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	And I realize that I' m not real
	God just imagined me
	It' s like I said
	About ten years ago, the event that changed his whole reality
	Took place on his monthly trip to the local art gallery
	It was there where he studied his contemporaries
	And there where he nearly carried his sanity to a hole and buried it forever
	It was a very mysterious day
	The place was almost empty
	And he got chills down his spine just being present in the scene
	On the wall, there was a picture that looked familiar
	And when he got close, his heart stopped
	Cause he saw it was a painting of his dream
	It was a painting of his dream
	His body on a runway
	By a ladder to an airplane with its propellers spinning
	Which accounted for the loud noise
	The match up was perfect
	And that was the day he stopped believing in existing
	He resented his creator
	I mean, words can' t explain
	What must 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 time
	The mind can' t handle that much, it' s just insane
	It' s like reading a book where each words describe your thoughts
	And in quotations, it reads whatever you say when you talk
	You think it can' t happen
	But it did happen
	I guess there' s surprisingly wide cracks in each life' s sidewalk
	He stumbled upon an answer when he never had a question
	And decided to stop dreaming to maintain his mental health
	Now he hardly talks to people
	Just stays in his basement
	Writing infinity, by painting himself
	Painting himself
	This is a strange universe
	Is 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 beings
	Then every character in ever novel thinks it' s alive and were just gods
	Ruling blindly
	Just a theory
	I don' t know what it means
	But that' s the story of the man who trained himself not to dream
	Chorus
	He once saw a paining that told his whole life story
	He witnessed the paradox of the word " existing"
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	He colored his world theirs, and concluded he wasn' t living
	He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
	The hidden variable that all that is is art
	And when I close my eyes, I see eternity as a story
	A God imagined the God that imagined me
	And I am God
	And so on

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