Empty Traces, Pt. 2

The streets are silent though I seem to hear
The cries of children that are nowhere near
And in the darkness lies things we wish our eyes could unsee

These wondrous places in a world we've known
Have turned to graveyards made of fear and stone
The world is standing still so I take my quill and I write

Under the rain of gods, we'll trust in ordinary men to shine some holy light
Yet all we seem to know is things we cannot change sometimes were never meant to be