They spoke. You sang.
You stopped. They didn't.
So you unplugged and walked to the middle of the room
Flesh and blood, flannelette, timber and steel
And we were yours
For we are made not of cables and leads, we are able to bleed
And those speaker stacks black the very sky we need for dreaming
And you stood within the sound of silence
And we heard it like a distant memory
And we knew it like a dawning daydream
And we felt it like a schoolyard crush, like an old man's tears and all the lonely, lonely people
I cried my eyes out then as now.
Twice around the sun and you can no longer find an empty room,
Cannot step from today's stage into the emptiness,
Loaf and fish in hand.
You are flesh and blood in a flannelette shirt, timber and steel,
Alone in a crowded, crowded field.