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hello darkness my old friend. |
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i've come to talk with you again. |
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because a vision softly creeping |
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left its seeds while i was sleeping. |
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and the vision that was planted in my brain |
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still remains with the sound of silence |
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in restless dreams i walk alone |
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narrow streets of cobble stone |
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beneath the hallo of a street lamp, |
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i turned my collar to the cold and damp |
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when my eyes were stabbled by the flash of a neon light |
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that split the night |
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and touched the sound of silence |
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and in the naked night i saw |
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ten thousand people may be more |
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people talking without speaking |
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people hearing without listening |
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people writing songs that voices never share |
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and no one dare |
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disturb the sound of silence |
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"fool" said i "you do not know |
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silence like a cancer grows |
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hear my words that i might teach you |
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take my arms that i might reach you |
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but my words like silent rain-drops fell |
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and echo-ed in the wells of silence |
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and the people bow and prayed |
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to the neon god they made |
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and the sign flash out its warning |
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in the words that it was forming |
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and the sings said "the words of the prophets are |
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written the subway walls and tenement halls" |
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and whispered in the sounds of silence |
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the sound of silence |
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gregorian |
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master of chant i |
