A keresés eredménye

Paint

Three strings around my neck
As I've lived my life
I felt these three colors
I've kept these thoughts
With full, unbroken brush strokes
I paint with blue, red, and green
 
My mom was a stranger who I stopped calling
My heart has never felt at peace, even as a child I was uneasy
I was a bright kid without the typical lighting
The feverish feeling at this age was the color blue
 
Three strings around my neck
As I've lived my life
I felt these three colors
I've kept these thoughts
With full, unbroken brush strokes
I paint with blue, red, and green
 
I'll get drunk off goodbyes, flying to the stars
I was foolish to live without treating anything like it was special
I sang during the day and got drunk at night
My hot summer at age 27 was the color red
 
Three strings around my neck
As I've lived my life
I felt these three colors
I've kept these thoughts
With full, unbroken brush strokes
I paint with blue, red, and green
 
I walk at night and write down the things I long for
I walk because I enjoy it, I write because I'm nervous
Truthfully, I don't know how to live well
I'm a decent adult, but I grow small when I'm hurt
When I open my closed eyes, only green remains
 
Three strings around my neck
As I've lived my life
I felt these three colors
I've kept these thoughts
With full, unbroken brush strokes
I paint with blue, red, and green
 

Museum (Art Gallery)

Which painting do you like?
Do you like the prettiest and most colorful ones?
Bashfully, you can't keep your eyes off the scarlet colored paints
 
I don't notice this kind of painting
I don't notice paintings that make me feel like I'm floating
To be honest, I don't know one thing about art
I'll be outside, look at it more
 
I always have many angles
And you have many round colorful ones too
The pretty child(1) who's a bit sad
He feels down because of me
He's looking at the painting with tears in his eyes
 
I like pretty paintings
I don't notice the dark and painful ones
I like stories about the lover of the artist
It's romantic
 
Why does that painting of a tree look so painful?
Is it because our lives hurt too?
We'll hang it up later
 
I always have many angles
And you have many round colorful ones too
The pretty child who's a bit sad
He's hurt because of me
He leaves and walks into the street with tears in his eyes
 
Where do we come from?
Maybe this paintbrush knows
If we keep on painting
It's already spreading, spreading, spreading, spreading
It's a boring day
 
I always have many angles
And you have many round colorful ones too
The pretty child who's a bit sad
He feels down because of me
He's looking at the painting with tears in his eyes