because a vision softly creeping,
left its seeds while i was sleeping;
and the vision that was planted in my brain
still remains, with the sound of silence.
narrow streets of cobblestone.
‘neath the halo of a streetlamp,
i turned my collar to the cold a damp,
and my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
that split the night
and touched the sound of silence.
