Quiet Sounds - Mook

Tired faces from wasted places

Riding under avenues

On the edge of drunken reason

With a b-check and some food

Staring into sunken ships and ghost towns

In empty packs of cigarettes found on the ground

And the fine night shifts like winter’s wild winds

And condemns my eyes from looking up

In the still of the night

Abandon logic with light

Illicit flakes of things that were

As the ghosts of this city stare

There’s a silent scene of shadows that dance in the light

A cinema screen of Manhattan in the silver night

Over the sewer and under the trees

And into my pockets for something to breathe

And the smoke always looks so good in the cold

In the still of the night

Abandon logic with light

Illicit flakes of things that were

As the ghosts of this city stare

Night has descended and has drowned

The shivering sunlight out with quiet sounds

Of crackling earth as I walk through the park

On a quiet quest for reason in the dark