The Silence

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