Luyện nghe bài hát Painters

Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front
Watching the roll by
remind her of her lover, how he left 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

'Cause they were painters and were painting themselves
A world

Oil streaked daisies covered the living room
He put colored roses in her hair
He said, "Love, I you,
I want to 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,
made it an art to live by
They painted every passion, every home, created every beautiful
In the winter they weavers of warmth,
In the summer they carpenters of love
They thought prints were too sad so they made them yellow

And were painters and they had painted themselves
A world

Until one day the rain fell as thick as oil
And in her heart she knew was wrong
She went running the orchard screaming,
"No God, don't take him me!"
But by the she got there, she feared he already had gone
She got to where he lay, water colored roses in his for her
She threw down screaming, "Damn you man, don't leave me
With nothing left behind but these cold paintings, these cold
To me!"

He said, "Love I only leave a little, try to
I put my soul in this life we've with these four hands
Love, I leave, but only a little, world holds me still
My may die now, but these paintings are real"
La li lai la li lai la li lai

So many seasons and many seasons went
And many she saw her love's face watering the flowers,
to the trees and singing to his children,
And when the wind blew, she he was listening,
And how he seemed to along, and how he seemed to hold her
When she was

'Cause they were painters and they had painted
A lovely

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,
When she used color carelessly, his portrait
A times, or maybe just his smile,
Her and her canvas would follow him he would go
Yes, she and her canvas still

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