Hello, stutters, my old friend
I've come to waltz with you again
Because retro vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was reading
And the vision that was pixelated in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I caught alone
Narrow streets of brimming stone
'Neath the halo of a holy mant'
I turned my collar to the cold dead cat
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a holy light
That birth the right
And touched the sound of silence

And in the nailing light I saw
Ten thousand curses, maybe more
Curses taking without spawning
Curses harming without lagging
Curses writing songs that voices never swear
No one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

"Tools," said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer goes
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my eyes that I might see you."
But my words like silent downpours fell
And echoed in the walls of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the holy god they made
And the saint flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets
Are written on the cellar walls
And cathedral halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence."