Comments

1

Very cool rendering of a Simon and Garfunkel song! Very cool!

2

Hello racket, my old friend.
(apologies to Simon & Garfunkle)

I'm forced to hear you roar again,
because a truck loudly creeping,
left a crew while I was sleeping,
And the rumble that was planted in my brain,
still remains. It's the sound of traffic.

In restless dreams, I walked alone,
Narrow streets of gravel stone,
'Neath the halo of a street lamp,
Street racers roared in the cold and damp.
When my ears were stabbed by the blare,
of a big truck horn that split the morn.
It's the sound of traffic.

Beneath the clouded sky I swore,
Ten thousand cars, maybe more.
Cars driven but not moving,
Cars stuck in traffic glistening,
People writing songs,
that never will be shared.
No one dared,
Disrupt the sound of traffic.

Fools, said I, "You do not know,
Traffic like a cancer grows.
Hear my words if you care.
Heed this warning is you dare.
But my words like soot particulates fell,
Drowned in the sound of traffic.

And the people bowed and prayed,
To the neon cars they made.
And then a loudspeaker sounded its warning,
In words that it was forming.
And the speaker blared,
The words of the prophets
Are written on subway walls,
And tenement halls,
And are lost in the sound of traffic.

3

Landscape maintenance is a noble occupation.
A very real human care for living growing plants.
Pruning, mowing, leaf blowing need not be so noisy.
Automobile dependency will soon destroy all life on Earth.
No songs to sing then sung. Nobody left to sing them.


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