(Intro) (Acoustic guitar arpeggio, slow and gentle, accompanied by the faint, distant sound of morning birds) (Verse 1) Shoes worn out from rushing to run elsewhere, chasing a mirage that isn't there. And meanwhile the coffee goes cold on the table, outside the light kissing the tiles. We've invented chains of graphite and pixels, so we wouldn't notice that all it takes is a little. A blank sheet of paper, a worn-down pencil, and the mind finally coming back home. (Pre-Chorus) They told us everything can be bought, everything can be scaled, but true happiness doesn't have just one wing. (Chorus) It's the smell of bread when it comes out of the oven, it's an unmade chair at the end of the day. It's a ray of sunshine warming your hand, an old vinyl record spinning slowly. You don't need an empire, you don't need glory, the simplest things make history. (Verse 2) A frosty dawn dressing the earth in mother-of-pearl, while the valley wakes up and reveals itself. The light smoke rising from a distant roof, and the step choosing a more human pace. It's the luxury of time that knows how to slow down, of hours passing by without burning out, of a shadow growing above the low stone wall, and a paper book you hold tight in bed. (Pre-Chorus) They sold us noise like it was a treasure, but the silence of the fields is the only gold. (Chorus) It's the smell of bread when it comes out of the oven, it's an unmade chair at the end of the day. It's a ray of sunshine warming your hand, an old vinyl record spinning slowly. You don't need an empire, you don't need glory, the simplest things make history. (Bridge) And when the evening lights up with red and orange, above the hills sleeping in deep silence. Then the sky opens up, clean and cobalt, and turns on the stars high above. Billions of fires speaking softly, that reset time, that hold you by the hand. Without masks, without having to defend ourselves, without anything left to demand. Life is a light breath passing through, and all the superfluous... in the end, fades away. (Chorus) It's the smell of bread when it comes out of the oven, it's an unmade chair at the end of the day. It's a ray of sunshine warming your hand, an old vinyl record spinning slowly. You don't need an empire, you don't need glory, the simplest things make history. (Outro) (The instruments gradually fade away, leaving only a soft, lingering acoustic strum) A fiery sky slipping away... Slow steps in my homeland. Beneath space, the stars, and the quiet. Time truly becoming ours again. That's enough. (Fade out on a single sustained guitar chord)
