The Machine In The Garden rusty haloes

cherubs with broken wings
the wind blows through their faces
i opened my mind to sing
their eyes grow colder still
angels that cannot sing
fly to greet the freed
pale faces of martyrs sting
hold hands in the clouds
waiting for the night to dawn
their words cling to our sorrows
when depths in days are gone
guilt dulls their rusty haloes
across their heartstrings
they sing out of tune
huddled around they cling
in the pouring rain
like snowflakes in the spring
the silence fades away
their screams begin to ring
deafening the ashes