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 futures glow

Kneeling journey dressed in a cloak of shadows
The huntings grim for the innocent eyes
Communions prey is a cup of sorrows
But faith is colours for the humbling cries

The Pilgrims are gathering and the marching band, the marching bands howling
Compassion is the flag a righteous man, a righteous man will hold
The Pilgrims are gathering and the marching band, the marching bands 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