Hello darkness my old friend,
I've come to 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 with the sound of silence.
In restless dreams I walked alone,
narrow streets of cobble stone.
Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp.
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
that 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 share,
And no dares disturb the sounds of silence.
I've come to 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 with the sound of silence.
In restless dreams I walked alone,
narrow streets of cobble stone.
Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp.
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
that 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 share,
And no dares disturb the sounds of silence.
"Fools!" said I, "you do not know,
silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
take my arms that I might reach you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
and echoed, in the wells of silence.
And the peope bowed and prayed,
To the neon god that they had 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.
---Paul Simon & Art Garfunkel,
The Sound of Silence, 1964
silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
take my arms that I might reach you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
and echoed, in the wells of silence.
And the peope bowed and prayed,
To the neon god that they had 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.
---Paul Simon & Art Garfunkel,
The Sound of Silence, 1964