Natasha Bedingfield - Unwritten

 

Unwritten

I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined

I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand

Ending unplanned

Starring at the blank page before you

Open up the dirty window

Let the sun iluminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance

So close you can almost taste it

Release your inhibitions

Feel the rain on your skin

No one else can feel it for you

Only you can let it in

No one else, no one else

Can speak the words on your lips

Drench yourself in words unspoken

Live your life with arms wide open

Today is where your book begins

The rest is still unwritten

oh oh

I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines

We've been conditioned to not make mistakes

But I can't live that way

Starring at the blank page before you

Open up the dirty window

Let the sun iluminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance

So close you can almost taste it

Release your inhibitions

Feel the rain on your skin

No one else can feel it for you

Only you can let it in

No one else, no one else

Can speak the words on your lips

Drench yourself in words unspoken

Live your life with arms wide open

Today is where your book begins

The rest is still unwritten

Staring at the blank page before you

Open up the dirty window

Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance

So close you can almost taste it

Release your inhibitions

Feel the rain on your skin

No one else can feel it for you

Only you can let it in

No one else, no one else

Can speak the words on your lips

Drench yourself in words unspoken

Live your life with arms wide open

Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin

No one else can feel it for you

Only you can let it in

No one else, no one else

Can speak the words on your lips

Drench yourself in words unspoken

Live your life with arms wide open

Today is when your book begins

The rest is still unwritten

The rest is still unwritten

The rest is still unwritten

 * * *

Assim como os autores colocam um pedaço de si em cada obra escrita. Nós também escrevemos a nossa história diariamente.
Nossa vida é um livro, um livro com todas as páginas em branco das quais a cada segundo que passa escrevemos ali, nessas páginas a nossa vida, a nossa história.

Karina Belo