This world

Starlit nights, with a scent of jasmin,
Rivers as clear as crystal and forests lush green.
An empty canvas is standing there, without an artist to make,
a plot of this world in the real world.

This world, this world is a gift, which braught to us
this is yours, this is mine, it's naturel and true.
And what will happened to it, it's up to you.

The empty canvas come alive,
and draw on himself the world he see.
Smoke above thousands cities, smoke of sorrow,
In jumbo jets we are flying towards tomorrow.

This world, this world is a gift, which braught to us
this is yours, this is mine, it's naturel and true.
And what will happened to it, it's up to you.

This world, this world is a gift, which braught to us
this is yours, this is mine, it's naturel and true.
And what will happened to it, it's up to you.

And even though it sounds weird, the world keeps us alive,
and we must let him be what it is. what it is.

This world, this world is a gift, which braught to us
this is yours, this is mine, it's naturel and true.
And what will happened to it, it's up to you.

This world, this world is a gift, which braught to us
this is yours, this is mine, it's naturel and true.
And what will happened to it, it's up to you.

It's all up to you.
It's all up to you.