Color My World Mine - Eyedea & Abilities

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redjello720
October 28, 2009

First Born Rhymesayers Entertainment Eyedea & Abilities 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 ca...

First Born
Rhymesayers Entertainment
Eyedea & Abilities

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 too 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 brushstroke 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
and 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 word describes 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, and so on.
And so on, and do on.

Category: Music

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