Hello darkness, my old friend, I've come with talk with you again
|
Because a vision softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping
|
And the vision that was planted in my brain, still remains
|
Within the sound of silence
|
|
In restless dreams I walked alone, narrow streets of cobblestone
|
Neath the halo of a streetlamp, I turned my collar to the cold and damp
|
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light, split the night
|
And touched the sound of silence
|
|
And in the naked light I saw, ten thousand people, maybe more
|
People talking without speaking, people hearing without listening
|
People writing songs that voices never shared, and no one dared
|
To stir the sound of silence
|
|
Fool, said I, you do not know, silence, like a cancer, grows
|
Hear my words and I might teach you, take my arms then I might reach you
|
But my words, like silent raindrops fell, and echoed in the wells of silence
|
|
And the people bowed and prayed to the neon god they'd made
|
And the sign flashed its warning in the words that it was forming
|
And the sign said the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
|
And tenement halls, and whispered in the sounds of silence
|
|
-----------------
|
The Sound Of Silence
|
| Paul Simon |
