Hel lo dark ness my old friend,

I’ve come to talk with you a gain,

be cause a vi sion soft ly creep ing,

left its seeds while I was sleep ing,

and the (D)vi sion

that was plant ed in my brain

still re mains

with in the (E)sound

of (F#)si lence.

In rest less dreams I walked a lone,

nar row streets of cob ble stone,

’neath the ha lo of a street lamp,

I turned my col lar to the (D)cold and damp,

when my (D)eyes were stabbed by the flash of a ne on light,

that split the (A)night,

and touched the (E)sound

of (F#)si lence.

And (E5)in the (A5)nak ed (F#5)light I saw

ten thou sand peo ple may be more,

peo ple talk ing with out speak ing,

peo ple hear ing with out listen ing, peo ple wri ting (D)songs

that voi ces nev er share,

and no one dare

dis (A)turb the (E)sound

of (F#)si lence.

“Fools” said I, “you do not know

si lence like a can cer grows,

hear my words that I might teach you,

take my arms that I might reach you.”

But my words

like si lent rain drops fell,

and (A)ech oed in the (E)wells

of (F#)si lence.

(E5)And the (A5)peo ple (F#5)bowed and prayed,

to the ne on God they made,

and the sign flashed out it’s warn ing,

and the words that it was form ing,

and the sign said, “The (D)words of the proph ets are writ ten on the sub way walls

and te ne ment halls.”

and (F#m)whis pered

in the (E)sound

of si lence.