Luyện nghe bài hát Painters

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

they were painters and they were painting themselves
A world

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

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

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

And they were painters and they had painted
A lovely

Until one day the rain fell as as black oil
And in her heart she something was wrong
She went through the orchard screaming,
"No God, take him from me!"
But by the time she got there, she feared he 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 four hands
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 seasons came and seasons went
And times she saw her love's face watering the flowers,
Talking to the trees and to his children,
And when the wind blew, she he was listening,
And how he to laugh along, and how he seemed to hold her
When she was

'Cause they painters 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 her, and of times 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 canvas follow

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