The sound of silence
Disturbed; Myles Kennedy Lyrics

Hello darkness, my old friend
I have returned to my melancholic state, seeking solace in my isolation

I've come to talk with you again
I am reaching out to my own sense of loneliness, in search of comfort in this void that envelops me

Because a vision softly creeping
A premonition, a visual manifestation, a figment of my imagination that sneaks up on me

Left its seeds while I was sleeping
It sows its seeds in my subconsciousness while I am both defenseless and vulnerable

And the vision that was planted in my brain
The subconscious thought, dream, or vision that was planted in my head has taken root and continues to grow

Still remains
It persists and endures through the passage of time, reminding me of what was and what could be

Within the sound of silence
Amidst the peace and serenity that can be found in the lack of noise, the sound of nothingness

In restless dreams I walked alone
In a state of agitated and uneasy dreaming, I would wander by myself

Narrow streets of cobblestone
Tightly enclosed streets whose surfaces are uneven and jagged, whose nature makes it difficult to navigate through them

'Neath the halo of a street lamp
Under the light of a halo, a ring of light that illuminates but can also cast shadows

I turned my collar to the cold and damp
I protect my neck and isolate myself from the cold and wet climate that surrounds me

When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
When the sudden and overpowering brightness from a glowing neon light pierces through my eyes and startles me

That split the night
Illuminating and rending the darkness into two distinct parts, the before and after of the neon's arrival

And touched the sound of silence
And interfered with the purity of silence through its visually stunning presence

And in the naked light I saw
Through the brightness of that light, I saw truth and unvarnished reality

Ten thousand people, maybe more
Countless individuals gathered in a single location, a mass of humanity that is as fleeting as the moment

People talking without speaking
People conversing in the midst of noise, without truly exchanging any meaningful discourse

People hearing without listening
People passively absorbing sound without paying attention or actively processing it

People writing songs that voices never share
People composing music that is never heard or performed, songs that exist without a tangible existence

And no one dared
No one had the courage or willpower to

Disturb the sound of silence
Disrupting the calmness that could be found within the absence of sound

"Fools," said I, "You do not know
I cursed and scorned those who failed to see the value in the absence of sound

Silence, like a cancer, grows
Silence is a disease, an ailment that slowly spreads and corrodes the soul

Hear my words that I might teach you
Listen to my words, in hope that I may guide and instruct you

Take my arms that I might reach you"
Take hold of my arm, in hope that I may offer you comfort and rescue you from your own sense of loneliness

But my words, like silent raindrops fell
Yet my words were like rainfall, landing with nary a sound

And echoed in the wells, of silence
They rebounded and multiplied, lost in the confines of the void

And the people bowed and prayed
And the people would fall to their knees and pray

To the neon god they made
But they were not praying to any deity, they were praying to their own neon creation

And the sign flashed out its warning
And the neon sign emitted a warning signal, a premonition of sorts

In the words that it was forming
Through the words that it spelled out

And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And the sign dictated that the words of the prophets, the light bearers with a vision, were now written on the graffiti covered walls of the subway

And tenement halls"
Ghetto housing projects or slums where people dwell, now the home of the words that may illuminate their dark and dismal existence

And whispered in the sounds of silence
In a hushed murmur or rustling, in the stillness of nothingness, these legends would quickly fade into the pages of history