|
Pray for them |
|
I often lose track |
|
So I took a drag |
|
On my first cigarrette |
|
And I found my head |
|
Roll down the dumps |
|
Of 27th Street |
|
I drew a sketch |
|
With lipstick and sidewalk |
|
Of Newports edge |
|
Lego block cliffs |
|
And an ocean that doesn't |
|
Deserve the sounds of silence |
|
I'd swear on a dead artists grave |
|
That I found a spot |
|
Where the drunk never got to |
|
It rocks me gently silent, silent |
|
If I never surface |
|
It doesn't matter |
|
Hold my breath |
|
It's silent, silent |
|
Diligent |
|
They skate by the water |
|
Not sick of it |
|
It only gets harder |
|
That's no excuse |
|
To block all the cliches and |
|
Reason for kicks |
|
He strokes her hair |
|
Both sitting on sand |
|
And her shoulders bare |
|
Nothing to demand of them |
|
Laying back on a lonely stone wall |
|
And passersby look passed it all |
|
Then I found a spot |
|
Where the drunk never got to |
|
It rocks me gently silent, silent |
|
If I never surface |
|
It doesn't matter |
|
Hold my breath |
|
It's silent, silent |
|
I found a spot |
|
That the drunk never got to |
|
It rocks me gently silent, silent |
|
If I never surface |
|
It doesn't matter |
|
Hold my breath |
|
It's silent, silent now |
