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 down the streets of Coralstone. Beneath 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. I 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. No one there to stir the sound of silence. Fools that I 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. Echoing in the winds of silence. And the people bowed and prayed to the neon god they made. And the sign crashed out its warning in the words that it was forming. And the sign said the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls. The tenement halls whispered in the sounds of silence.