The Sound of Silence can be read as a revolt song — not a loud one, but a deeply unsettling warning against establishment power, injustice, and, most of all, collective passiveness. It is less a call to immediate action and more a diagnosis of why action never comes. “Hello darkness, my old friend / I've come to talk with you again” opens in isolation. Darkness here feels like depression, but also awareness without an outlet. The narrator is alone with his thoughts, unable to communicate what he sees because no one around him seems willing — or able — to...
The Sound of Silence can be read as a revolt song — not a loud one, but a deeply unsettling warning against establishment power, injustice, and, most of all, collective passiveness. It is less a call to immediate action and more a diagnosis of why action never comes. “Hello darkness, my old friend / I've come to talk with you again” opens in isolation. Darkness here feels like depression, but also awareness without an outlet. The narrator is alone with his thoughts, unable to communicate what he sees because no one around him seems willing — or able — to listen. “Because a vision softly creeping / Left its seeds while I was sleeping” suggests a realization that forms slowly, almost unwillingly. The vision itself is never named, but as the song unfolds it becomes clear: oppression, injustice, manipulation, and social conditioning. While life goes on mechanically — while he is “sleeping” — disconnected fragments of reality accumulate. Only later do they begin to assemble into a larger picture. “And the vision that was planted in my brain / Still remains / Within the sound of silence” marks a crucial point: awareness without action. He sees the problem now, understands it, yet remains silent. Knowledge alone has not broken inertia. “In restless dreams I walked alone / Narrow streets of cobblestone” deepens the metaphor. The streets are narrow — restricted. Cobblestone, tightly packed and pressed into the ground, evokes people compressed into rigid social structures, oppressed and immobilized. Above them shines “the halo of a street lamp”: authority, power, the state, police, institutions — a secular divinity watching from above. The narrator notices all of this, yet still turns away: “I turned my collar to the cold and damp.” It’s the familiar human reflex — seeing suffering and injustice, understanding it, and choosing discomfort-avoidance over responsibility. “When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light” is the moment of clarity. The picture finally locks into place. The light is violent, intrusive — truth rarely arrives gently. It “splits the night” and exposes what was always there. He wants to react, to break the silence, but even now the impulse remains suspended. In the “naked light” he sees that he was never alone. “Ten thousand people, maybe more” also see it. Yet they exist in a state of collective paralysis: talking without speaking, hearing without listening. People think, create, even write songs — but never give those thoughts a real voice. Expression exists, but it is safely contained, stripped of consequence. No one dares disturb the silence, because silence has become the social contract. When he finally speaks — calling them fools, warning that silence grows like a cancer — it’s not out of arrogance but urgency. Passiveness is not neutral; it metastasizes. What is tolerated today becomes normalized tomorrow. “Hear my words… Take my arms…” is the closest the song comes to a call for revolt. Not violent uprising, but collective awakening. Still, the response is nothing. His words fall like rain into wells — absorbed, echoed, and ultimately lost. The final verses turn openly symbolic. People bow to a “neon god”: money, consumption, false promises, mass-media narratives designed to distract and pacify. Power no longer needs force; worship is voluntary. And yet, the last image offers a quiet irony. Truth does exist — but it lives on subway walls and tenement halls, in graffiti and whispers. Outside official channels. Outside power. The prophets are still speaking, but their voices are confined to the margins, drowned out by the overwhelming sound of silence. In the end, the song isn’t about ignorance. It’s about knowing — and choosing not to act.
The lyrics of "Fealty" by User speak to the feeling of being trapped and controlled, stripped of one's freedom. The opening lines "Black and white, it's only a name" suggest that the constraints imposed on the singer are arbitrary and meaningless. The idea of exterminating the unworthy state implies a desire to overthrow or escape the current oppressive situation. The tiger lying and the elephant waiting suggest a sense of danger and tension, as the target - the palace gates - comes into view. The second verse introduces the idea of being watched and monitored, with a "silicone chip" representing technology...
The lyrics of "Fealty" by User speak to the feeling of being trapped and controlled, stripped of one's freedom. The opening lines "Black and white, it's only a name" suggest that the constraints imposed on the singer are arbitrary and meaningless. The idea of exterminating the unworthy state implies a desire to overthrow or escape the current oppressive situation. The tiger lying and the elephant waiting suggest a sense of danger and tension, as the target - the palace gates - comes into view. The second verse introduces the idea of being watched and monitored, with a "silicone chip" representing technology that can track and control the singer. The chorus repeats the phrase "Take away all my freedom" multiple times, emphasizing the sense of longing for escape and autonomy. The mention of a "jumpsuit fame" and being "cooped up" further emphasize the sense of entrapment. The repetition of the chorus in the song highlights the sense of helplessness and desperation the singer is experiencing. The verses use vivid imagery to convey the feeling of being trapped and oppressed, while the chorus repeats the central theme of being robbed of one's freedom. Overall, "Fealty" is a powerful and emotional expression of the desire for autonomy and the pain of being trapped.
The lyrics in "Erase" by User convey a strong message of frustration and disappointment with humanity as a whole. The repetition of "erase the human race" serves as the central theme, indicating a desire to wipe out all human existence due to the perceived shortcomings and failings of individuals. The lines "all you do, it's nothing, a big mistake" suggest that the actions and accomplishments of humanity are insignificant and worthless. The lyrics also touch on themes of trust, love, and betrayal. The repeated phrase "he don't trust her, she don't trust him" reinforces a sense of distance and detachment, implying...
The lyrics in "Erase" by User convey a strong message of frustration and disappointment with humanity as a whole. The repetition of "erase the human race" serves as the central theme, indicating a desire to wipe out all human existence due to the perceived shortcomings and failings of individuals. The lines "all you do, it's nothing, a big mistake" suggest that the actions and accomplishments of humanity are insignificant and worthless. The lyrics also touch on themes of trust, love, and betrayal. The repeated phrase "he don't trust her, she don't trust him" reinforces a sense of distance and detachment, implying a lack of trust between individuals and difficulty in forming deep connections. The line "but she's not free to love anyone" suggests a sense of imprisonment or confinement, perhaps due to societal expectations and constraints. Overall, "Erase" by User is a powerful song that explores themes of frustration with humanity, lack of trust, and longing for connection.
The lyrics of User's song "Downers" are intense and somewhat disturbing. The opening lines "Whisper to my brain and taste the milk plucked from your mother's blender" is a reference to the alarming trend of people drinking their own breast milk, which is believed by some to have health benefits. However, the mention of "downers" in the chorus suggests that the singer is using drugs to escape their problems. It is almost like they are trying to wash away their troubles and pain with the use of drugs.
The lyrics of User's song "Downers" are intense and somewhat disturbing. The opening lines "Whisper to my brain and taste the milk plucked from your mother's blender" is a reference to the alarming trend of people drinking their own breast milk, which is believed by some to have health benefits. However, the mention of "downers" in the chorus suggests that the singer is using drugs to escape their problems. It is almost like they are trying to wash away their troubles and pain with the use of drugs.
The song takes a dark turn...
The song takes a dark turn with the lines "You're an abdominal freak, I'll turn the heat right up, I'll get rid of you all." These lyrics seem to suggest that the singer is willing to harm others to get what they want. The line "I want more gasoline, so I can bid you farewell" could be interpreted as a desire for self-harm, or a desire to harm others.
The final lines of the song seem to offer a glimmer of hope in the form of "My angels come, they prop me up, slowly, sweetly" but it is unclear who or what these "angels" are. Overall, "Downers" is a provocative and unsettling song that showcases User's ability to create deeply introspective and thought-provoking lyrics
Cyclops" is a song that reflects upon modern society's obsession with power, conformity, and tribalism. The song opens with the mention of Mr Mangle, who was caught in a vine and followed the leader but flipped out. The lyrics suggest that Mr Mangle had a good angle sleeping with Angel, but soon Angel fell into failure and burnt out. The chorus emphasizes the need to pound it out, nail it down, and put it in the ground, alluding to a desire for dominance and control. The song uses the word "tribal" to describe this need for power, suggesting that it...
Cyclops" is a song that reflects upon modern society's obsession with power, conformity, and tribalism. The song opens with the mention of Mr Mangle, who was caught in a vine and followed the leader but flipped out. The lyrics suggest that Mr Mangle had a good angle sleeping with Angel, but soon Angel fell into failure and burnt out. The chorus emphasizes the need to pound it out, nail it down, and put it in the ground, alluding to a desire for dominance and control. The song uses the word "tribal" to describe this need for power, suggesting that it is a primitive, instinctual urge. In the second verse, the lyrics explore the concept of tribal treason and how modern society speaks of freedom while feeding on others' lust and butt, perhaps indicating a form of exploitation. The chorus repeats the same message, highlighting the desire to pound, nail, and melt down, alluding to the destruction of the self and others for the sake of power. In the third verse, the lyrics make a reference to an octopus, which is known to suck up to danger, possibly alluding to society's infatuation with risk-taking and thrill-seeking. The final chorus repeats the same message as the previous ones, emphasizing the need to pound, nail, and put things in the ground. Overall, the song "Cyclops" is a thought-provoking commentary on modern society's obsession with power and control, often resulting in destruction and exploitation.
The Sound of Silence can be read as a revolt song — not a loud one, but a deeply unsettling warning against establishment power, injustice, and, most of all, collective passiveness. It is less a call to immediate action and more a diagnosis of why action never comes.
The Sound of Silence can be read as a revolt song — not a loud one, but a deeply unsettling warning against establishment power, injustice, and, most of all, collective passiveness. It is less a call to immediate action and more a diagnosis of why action never comes.
“Hello darkness, my old friend / I've come to talk with you again” opens in isolation. Darkness here feels like depression, but also awareness without an outlet. The narrator is alone with his thoughts, unable to communicate what he sees because no one around him seems willing — or able — to listen.
“Hello darkness, my old friend / I've come to talk with you again” opens in isolation. Darkness here feels like depression, but also awareness without an outlet. The narrator is alone with his thoughts, unable to communicate what he sees because no one around him seems willing — or able — to listen.
“Because a vision...
“Because a vision softly creeping / Left its seeds while I was sleeping” suggests a realization that forms slowly, almost unwillingly. The vision itself is never named, but as the song unfolds it becomes clear: oppression, injustice, manipulation, and social conditioning. While life goes on mechanically — while he is “sleeping” — disconnected fragments of reality accumulate. Only later do they begin to assemble into a larger picture.
“And the vision that was planted in my brain / Still remains / Within the sound of silence” marks a crucial point: awareness without action. He sees the problem now, understands it, yet remains silent. Knowledge alone has not broken inertia.
“In restless dreams I walked alone / Narrow streets of cobblestone” deepens the metaphor. The streets are narrow — restricted. Cobblestone, tightly packed and pressed into the ground, evokes people compressed into rigid social structures, oppressed and immobilized. Above them shines “the halo of a street lamp”: authority, power, the state, police, institutions — a secular divinity watching from above. The narrator notices all of this, yet still turns away: “I turned my collar to the cold and damp.” It’s the familiar human reflex — seeing suffering and injustice, understanding it, and choosing discomfort-avoidance over responsibility.
“When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light” is the moment of clarity. The picture finally locks into place. The light is violent, intrusive — truth rarely arrives gently. It “splits the night” and exposes what was always there. He wants to react, to break the silence, but even now the impulse remains suspended.
In the “naked light” he sees that he was never alone. “Ten thousand people, maybe more” also see it. Yet they exist in a state of collective paralysis: talking without speaking, hearing without listening. People think, create, even write songs — but never give those thoughts a real voice. Expression exists, but it is safely contained, stripped of consequence. No one dares disturb the silence, because silence has become the social contract.
When he finally speaks — calling them fools, warning that silence grows like a cancer — it’s not out of arrogance but urgency. Passiveness is not neutral; it metastasizes. What is tolerated today becomes normalized tomorrow.
“Hear my words… Take my arms…” is the closest the song comes to a call for revolt. Not violent uprising, but collective awakening. Still, the response is nothing. His words fall like rain into wells — absorbed, echoed, and ultimately lost.
The final verses turn openly symbolic. People bow to a “neon god”: money, consumption, false promises, mass-media narratives designed to distract and pacify. Power no longer needs force; worship is voluntary.
And yet, the last image offers a quiet irony. Truth does exist — but it lives on subway walls and tenement halls, in graffiti and whispers. Outside official channels. Outside power. The prophets are still speaking, but their voices are confined to the margins, drowned out by the overwhelming sound of silence.
In the end, the song isn’t about ignorance. It’s about knowing — and choosing not to act.