this is what it's like for me. . .

.
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
Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
'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 one deared
Disturb the sound 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 people bowed and prayed
To the neon God they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.

And the signs said, the words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls.
And whisperd in the sounds of silence.
.
S&G (again)
.
but then I suppose nothing is obligatory, is it. . .

14 comments:

Rimshot said...

Begin the day with a friendly voice,
A companion unobtrusive
Plays the song that's so elusive
And the magic music makes your morning mood.

Off on your way, hit the open road,
There is magic at your fingers
For the Spirit ever lingers,
Undemanding contact in your happy solitude.

Chorus
Invisible airwaves crackle with life
Bright antennae bristle with the energy
Emotional feedback on timeless wavelength
Bearing a gift beyond price, almost free

All this machinery making modern music
Can still be open-hearted.
Not so coldly charted
It's really just a question of your honesty, yeah,
Your honesty.
One likes to believe in the freedom of music,
But glittering prizes and endless compromises
Shatter the illusion of integrity.

Chorus

For the words of the prophets were written on the studio wall,
Concert hall
And echoes with the sounds of salesmen.


'Spirit of the Radio'
Rush

I, still, ♥ the views said...

dear shot, please just ignore me, I'm having one of my sulks (which I have from time to time) about the lurkers. . .

. . .not that my having a paddy would ever flush them out! (I don't think they read the comments)(does the person who uses Tiscali as the broadband provider read the comments? no, I didn't think so. . .)

Rimshot said...

I'm afraid I may have to ignore (no, that's not the right word) you on this point, as I understood less than 1/2 of your comment.

Paddy?

Tiscali?

regardless...much love and many hugs... not nearly as soul satisfying as from a two year old, but it's the best I've got.

I, still, ♥ the views said...

"paddy" is not a reference to an Irish man, it's another word for strop or sulk. . . reflecting the self centred pointless nature of the activity/behaviour!

"Tiscali" is an internet provider (I'm sure there's a more techincal way to descriibe that, but my brain has packed up)

Rimshot said...

sigh - my poor humor (humour) lost in translation.

I, still, ♥ the views said...

no, it's not you. . . I have a terrible sense of humour and never know when someone's pulling my leg

:-/

(but thanks for reminding me of such a fab film!)

Gordie said...

"it is not the strongest of the species that survive nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change"

I, still, ♥ the views said...

:-D

Dave said...

You don't get it when I'm joking, do you? My heart isn't broken.

Perhaps you also don't get it when I manipulate tow separate pictures to make one silly avatar.

Dave said...

Two, not tow, obviously.

I, still, ♥ the views said...

I did sort of suspect you'd manipulated young Julie. . .

but now, I don't get your sense of humour in the written form

I, still, ♥ the views said...

no, not now, obviously

I, still, ♥ the views said...

glad your heart's not broken tho! with everything else going on, that's the last thing you'd need - an underperforming heart. . .

Mel said...

<-- still waiting for steg to find the S&G tape.

(Thinkin' hangin' in the subways and tenements would be a 'spiritual' experience, indeed...)