Color My World Mine Lyrics - Singles - Eyedea

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 

[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