Unwritten Sky

歌詞

I held the pen above the page for seven years, Writing letters to a future I could almost see. The ink ran dry before the sentence found its meaning, So I signed it with a teardrop and I called it poetry. I built a house from every promise that was broken, Used the splinters as the framework, used the silence as the floor. Every room I decorated with the echo of a maybe, And I hung the word "enough" above the door. The page is empty but my hands remember writing. The house is standing but my knees remember kneeling. We are not the ruins — We are what the ruins chose to grow. We are the Unwritten Sky above the ashes of the plan! Every cloud we carried became the rain that made us bloom! I will lift my voice until the ceiling can't contain it! You will hold the ground until the ground becomes a stage! Together we're the thunder and the mercy in one breath — Two voices, one horizon, and a sky that has no edge! My mother sang in kitchens where nobody kept the score. Her audience was steam and soap and four a.m. devotion. She never called it music — she just called it getting through, But getting through sounded better than the radio. My father wrote his courage on the back of a receipt. Three words: don't stop now. Then he folded it in half. I found it twenty years too late inside a winter coat, And those three words became the bridge I'm standing on. She sang so I could speak. He wrote so I could sing. We are not the first ones — We are just the loudest yet. We are the Unwritten Sky above the weight of what they carried! Every prayer they whispered became the note we're hitting now! I will climb the octave till the atmosphere surrenders! You will shake the foundation till the foundation starts to sing! Together we're the cathedral and the congregation crying — Two lungs, one hymn, and a sky still being written! What is a voice without a witness? What is a witness without a song? What is a song without the tremble? What is the tremble without the truth? The truth is: we were never singing for the applause. We were singing for the woman in the kitchen. We were singing for the man with the receipt. We were singing so they'd know Their silence wasn't wasted — It was just rehearsal For this. We are the Unwritten Sky and we are filling every inch! Every scar became a lyric and every lyric hit the sky! We will sing until the page rewrites itself in gold! We will sing until the house becomes a temple made of sound! Two daughters of the silence — now the loudest thing alive! Two voices writing one sky That the world will read Forever! Don't stop now. Don't stop now. The sky is still being written.