Can you hear the old folks talking?
Can you hear their voices calling?
Lost in stone like fossils singing
Their melodies are dark and dreamy
Can you hear the old folks walking?
Stomp their feet and shake the floor
With magazines that burn so slowly
The colors bleed and start a war
Behind the walls
And behind the pictures
A wishful poem, of words that whisper
Please remember, me
Please remember, me
The sinners and the saints in a civil war
Streetcar blessings come to your door
With homeless words that got no bones
The ringless bells. their empty tones
Can you hear the old folks breathing?
Like an old ghost on the phone
Tucked inside a children's story
Words unspoken, stolen motions
Thoughts untold, that you will hear
Behind the walls
And behind the pictures
The power lines, and the orphaned fixtures
A wishful poem, of words that whisper
Please remember, me
Please remember, me