Swallow The Sun

Where do we go from here?
When these words have been unspoken.
We carry this burden through the gentle summer rain.
The convoy is still, still and weeping,
yet I don't feel anything, but these walls around.
"And the candles on the cathedral walls
chase the weak light under the saints eyes,
over you, and your shattered words for the ones you lost.
In your mourning you're alone, so alone."
This silence speaks a million words,
words of comfort so shallow.
How I wish even for one tear,
but for my heart it is too late.
Where do I go when the sorrow turns to hate.
Where do I go from here?
The guardian angels quiet and near,