The sound of scilence, empty and cold
The sound of waves, crashing to the shore
The sound of trees, swaying in the wind
The sound of birds, whistling in the trees
The sound of Monkeys howling, and lions roaring
The sound of man, the first words spoken
The sound of woman, the first to each other
The sound of shame, footsteps in the distance
The sound of building, trees falling and the frist destruction
The sound of community, as we first band together
The sound of cities, trade and languages of foreign tongues
The sound of Blacksmiths hammering and church bells ringing
The sound of trumpets, castles and kings, as they stood over the land
The sound of chaos, as war and anarchy ravaged the land
The sound of sails flapping in the wind.
The sound of Creativity and ingenuity
The sound of fading darkness, as art and science prevailed
The sound of music, as the notes dreamed from the composer’s mind came to being.
The sound of death, as disease ravaged the land
The sound of slavery, as one man put himself over another
The sound of slaughter. Those who don’t have what they want, take it
The sound of revolt. As rebellion and freedom came to be.
The sound of horses along cobblestone paths.
The sound of picks against rocks, and coughing workers
The sound of factories, steel on steel, and many men talking.
The sound of radios, one voice leading the world
The sound of motors, out with the old, and in with the new
The sound of television, flickering to life
The sound of bombs and gunfire, as lives are taken by the thousands
The sound of guitars strumming and drums drumming, opposing the death.
The sound of speakers, microphones and recording equipment, spreading the noise to every house and car in the world
The sound of cars, backed up in city streets.
The sound of phones ringing.
The sound of Lies and deceit, corruption and misinformation
The sound of hurt, as the world screams in agony
The sound of the oppressed, the broken and beaten,and the sound of those who want to return to science

I don’t care if you like it, love it, hate it or just stopped reading half way through, I just want to hear why.
If you didn’t catch it, the sound of hurt is 9/11

They crossed over the border the hour before dawn
Moving in lines through the day
Most of our planes were destroyed on the ground where they lay
Waiting for orders we held in the wood – word from the front never came
By evening the sound of the gunfire was miles away

Ah, softly we move through the shadows, slip away through the trees
Crossing their lines in the mists in the fields on our hands and our knees
And all that I ever was able to see
The fire in the air glowing red silhouetting the smoke on the breeze

All summer they drove us back through the Ukraine
Smolensk and Viasma soon fell
By autumn we stood with our backs to the town of Orel
Closer and closer to Moscow they came – riding the wind like a bell
General Guderian stands at the crest of the hill

Winter brought with her the rains, oceans of mud filled the roads
Gluing the tracks of their tanks to the ground while the sky filled with snow
And all that I ever was able to see
The fire in the air glowing red silhouetting the snow on the breeze

In the footsteps of Napoleon the shadow figures stagger through the winter
Falling back before the gates of Moscow,
Standing in the wings like an avenger
And far away behind their lines the partisans are stirring in the forest
Coming unexpectedly upon their outposts, growing like a promise
You’ll never know, you’ll never know
Which way to turn, which way to look, you’ll never see us
As we’re stealing through the blackness of the night,
You’ll never know, you’ll never hear us
And the evening sings in a voice of amber, the dawn is surely coming
The morning roads leads to Stalingrad, and the sky is softly humming

Two broken Tigers on fire in the night flicker their souls to the wind
We wait in the lines for the final approach to begin
It’s been almost four years that I’ve carried a gun
At home it will almost be spring
The flames of the Tigers are lighting the road to Berlin

Ah, quickly we move through the ruins that bow to the ground
The old men and children they send out to face us, they can’t slow us down
And all that I ever was able to see
The eyes of the city are opening now it’s the end of the dream

I’m coming home, I’m coming home,
Now you can taste it in the wind, the war is over
And I listen to the clicking of the train wheels as we roll across the border
And now they ask me of the time
When I was caught behind their lines and taken prisoner
"They only held me for a day, a lucky break", I say;
They turn and listen closer
I’ll never know, I’ll never know
Why I was taken from the line and all the others
To board a special train and journey deep into the heart of holy Russia
And it’s cold and damp in the transit camp, and the air is still and sullen
And the pale sun of October whispers the snow will soon be coming
And I wonder when I’ll be home again and the morning answers "Never"
And the evening sighs and the steely Russian skies go on forever
ok, next time I will ask "Dude wheres my car?"
Al Stewart song