Thread by @AlanBixter

Hello lockdown, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again.
Because a virus softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain,
Still remains,
Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams I walk alone,
Melbourne's streets of cobblestone.
'Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp,
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light,
That split the night,
And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked light, I saw,
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without being masked,
People marching without being asked,
People claiming rights that don't exist,
Yet they persist, and
Disturb the sound of silence.

"Fools", said I, "You do not know,
Virus like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you,"
But my words, like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed,
In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed,
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming,
And the sign said, "The words of the doctors are written on the hotel walls,
And vaccine halls,"
And whispered in the sound of silence.