[ El Condor Pasa ] |
I'd rather be a sparrow than a snail, |
Yes, I would, |
If I could, |
I surely would ... |
* |
Away, I'd rather sail away, |
Like a swan that's here and gone . . . |
A man gets tied up to the ground, |
He gives the world its saddest sound, |
Its saddest sound ... * |
I'd rather be a hammer than a nail, |
Yes, I would, |
If I only could, |
I surely would ...hmm |
* |
I'd rather be a forest than a street, |
Yes, I would, |
If I could, |
I surely would ... |
* |
I'd rather feel the earth beneath my feet, |
Yes, I would, |
If I only could, |
I surely would ... |
[ Scarborough Fair ] |
* |
Are you going to Scarborough Fair |
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme |
Remember me to one who lives there |
She once was a true love of mine * |
Tell her to make me a cambric shirt |
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme |
Without no seams nor needlework |
Then she'll be a true love of mine |
Tell her to find me an acre of land |
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme |
Between salt water and the sea strands |
Then she'll be a true love of mine |
Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather |
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme |
And gather it all in a bunch of heather |
Then she'll be a true love of mine |
* |
[ The Sound of Silence ] |
Hello darkness, my old friend |
I've 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 sound of silence |