Hel lo dark ness, my old (C)friend,

I’ve come to talk with you a (Dm)gain,

be cause a (F)vi sion soft ly (Bb)creep (F)ing

left its seeds while I was (Bb)sleep (F)ing.

And the (Bb)vi sion

that was plant ed in my (F)brain

still re mains

with in the (C)sound

of (Dm)si lence.

In rest less dreams I walked a (C)lone

nar row streets of cob ble (Dm)stone,

’neath the (F)ha lo of a (Bb)street lamp,

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

when my (Bb)eyes were stabbed by the flash of a ne on (F)light that split the night

and touched the (C)sound

of (Dm)si lence.

And in the na ked light I (C)saw

ten sand peo ple, may be (Dm)more.

Peo ple (F)talk ing with out (Bb)speak ing,

I peo ple hear ing with out (Bb)lis ten ing,

peo ple (Bb)writ ing songs by that voic es a nev er (F)share, and no one dare

dis turb the (C)sound

of (Dm)si lence.

“Fools!” said I, “You do not (C)know

si lence like a can cer (Dm)grows.”

“Hear my (F)words that I might (Bb)teach you.

Take my arms that I might (Bb)reach you.”

But my (Bb)words

like si lent rain drops (F)fell,

and (F)ech oed

in the (C)wells

of (Dm)si lence.

And the peo ple bowed and (C)prayed

to the ne on god they (Dm)made.

And the (F)sign flashed out its (Bb)warn ing

in the words that it was (Bb)form ing.

And the sign said the (Bb)words of the proph ets are writ ten on the sub way (F)walls

and ten e ment halls,

and (F)whis per’d

in the (C)sounds

of (Dm)si lence.