Luyện nghe bài hát Painters

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

'Cause they were painters and they were painting
A lovely

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

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

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

And they painters and they had painted themselves
A lovely

Until one day the rain fell as as black oil
And in her heart she knew was wrong
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 he lay, water colored roses in his hands for her
She threw them down screaming, "Damn you man, 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 hands
Love, I leave, but only a little, this world me still
My body may die now, but these are real"
La li lai la li lai la li lai

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

'Cause were painters and they had painted themselves
A lovely

Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front
Watching the 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 maybe his smile,
Her and her canvas would follow him wherever he go
Yes, she and her still follow

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