The Messenger is standing at the gate Ready to let go, ready for the crush Too late for whispers, too late for the blush The past is Mercy when the future's glow
Kneeling journey dressed in a cloak of shadows The hunting's grim for the innocent eyes Communion's prey is a cup of sorrows But faith is colours for the humbling cries
The Pilgrims are gathering and the marching band, the marching band’s howling Compassion is the flag a righteous man, a righteous man will hold The Pilgrims are gathering and the marching band, the marching band’s howling Compassion is the flag a righteous man, a righteous man will hold
The Spirit is over town, waiting for me to hit the floor Blooming white sky for the voice of one calling tonight Tonight, fate is the red crown, the red crown around your door Time is scattering the seeds of the mourning daylight...