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