In post_sbornia.
Mi avvolgo nelle mie stesse occhiaie.
E non è neanche una bella immagine, no.
Mi lascio cullare da The sound of Silence, mentre il cielo grigio si riflette in questa dura giornata a venire.
Un altro mefistofelico pomeriggio natalizio. ‘Palle.
Hello darkness my old friend,
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
left it’s seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
still remains, within the sounds of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone,
narrow streets of cobblestone
‘neath the halo of a streetlamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
when my eyes were stabbed
by the flash of a neon light
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
noone dare, 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 the will 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 sign said, “The words of the prophets
are written on the subway walls, and tenement halls
and whisper the sounds of silence.”
