Unwritten
– Natasha Bedingfield
I am unwritten, can’t read my mind, I’m undefined
I’m just beginning, the pen’s in my hand, ending unplanned
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
The rest is still unwritten
Oh, 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
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 where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten….
Uden egentlig at vide hvorfor, har jeg altid holdt meget af denne sang.
Idag hørte jeg den igen og pludselig var det som om jeg hørte den for første gang –altså sådan rigtig hørte – jeg lytter ellers altid meget til sangtekster og tillægger dem stor værdi, men først idag ramte denne tekst og dens budskab mig smæk lige i synet.
Jeg skruede op og skrålede med af fuld hals forbi klumpen i halsen, som ofte er der når noget rammer mine hjertestrenge og sætter dem i svingninger.
Det gjorde bare så godt. Kunne ikke andet end at smile af tårerne i øjenkrogen, og lige dér
føle taknemmelighed for sårbarheden og styrken i at leve med åbent hjerte og tegne uden for stregerne.
Vækket af sangen, dykker jeg ind i sindet, dypper pennen i de ufortalte historiers blækhus
og lader hånden sprede ord, skitser og fabuleringer på notesbogens før så blanke sider.