Color My World Mine

Eyedea

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    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

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    [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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