[Verse 1] Something more than a thread is trembling in my hands, Like the quiet birth of a thought as it begins to expand. From the smallest things a trace appears, Something that never lived among us here. Not every meaning comes at once, Not every voice can find its sound. But day by day, step by step, A world grows from empty hands. [Pre‑Chorus] Not everything ripens in the light, Not everything needs words to bloom. The most beautiful things grow slowly, Born from patient rooms. [Chorus] I weave the colors, I stitch my time, From the smallest gestures a world will rise. What quietly ripens deep inside me Takes its shape and comes alive. Let it grow slowly, let it carry my sign, Like a window glowing through the darkest nights. For everything beautiful begins this way — From heart, from hands, from simple days. [Verse 2] How many roads the wind has lost, How many dreams were taken by fear. And still we somehow find our way back, To build something greater than what appears. Something remains from every day, Though time flows on like a bending stream. In every trace a part still lingers, Living on beyond what we can keep. [Pre‑Chorus] When there’s no strength left to take flight, And every path feels steep and long, That’s when the quietest things are growing — The ones that stay with us, strong. [Bridge] No grand promises are needed To change even a piece of the world. Sometimes it’s enough to stand your ground When others have already turned. From what is fragile, small, and fleeting, Come the things that never leave. [Final Chorus] I weave the colors, I stitch my time, From the smallest gestures a world will rise. What quietly ripens deep inside me Takes its shape and comes alive. Let it grow slowly, let it carry my sign, Let it bring hope when the days run dry. For dreams become a living light When what we feel becomes what we make. [Outro] Day by day, Step by step, A world grows from empty hands. I weave the colors, I stitch my time.
0/500