The Graduate (Mike Nichols, 1967)

Hello darkness, my old friend/ Ive come to talk with you again/ Because a vision softly creeping/ Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain/ Still remains/ Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone/ Narrow streets of cobblestone/ Neath the halo of a street lamp/ I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light/ That 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/ And no one dared/ 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/ In the wells 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 whispered in the sounds of silence

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