The Silence - The Collection

Another knot of dreams

They keep chewing up my sleep

And spitting out my whole work-week every morning

Well this city is a sea

And its undertow grabbed me

And dragged me off into the deep without a warning

I’m longing for the silence, a field to lay my head

Where the engines and the sirens are no longer my debt

And I can finally hear my conscience, listen close to what it said:

«If you don’t make your bed, you don’t have to lie in it.»

And in the morning when I rise

Every step’s a compromise:

Motor fumes, and burning eyes, and drunken violence

Through the city, tall as trees

Hydrant rivers fill the street

And I can hear the birds and bees in the next apartment

I’m longing for the silence, a field to lay my head

Where the engines and the sirens are no longer my debt

And I can finally hear my conscience, listen close to what it said:

«If you don’t make your bed, you don’t have to lie in it.»

I’ve got my backpack and my tent

And a thumb pointing to heaven

And a couple bucks to spend if I get hungry

This land demands no rent

Though the air I breathe is lent

And the sun is so quiet as it shines on me

I’m longing for the silence, a field to lay my head

Where the engines and the sirens are no longer my debt

And I can finally hear my conscience, listen close to what it said:

«If you don’t make your bed, you don’t have to lie in it.»

If you don’t make your bed, you don’t have to lie in it