MERCY 017 – The Whiteburn Pilgrims | The Mercy

Thrash Metal, Southern Rock, High Energy, Heavy

(Verse 2)
They kneel beside the glassfields when the sunset turns them dark,
And measure every quiet site and every witness mark.
Some search the fused horizon for a truth the world has known,
While others hear unanswered names beneath the sheets of stone.

(Chorus)
The Whiteburn Pilgrims follow all the unanswered signs,
Through roads that lose their distances and pale, unbroken lines.
No Scar will speak its purpose, and no wound will yield a name,
Yet still their bodies know the road and lead them through the same.

(Verse 3)
Some Houses call them holy and prepare a place of rest,
Then ask them for a blessing like the White had marked them best.
Some gates declare them cursed and turn them back through wind and rain,
As though the marks upon their flesh could summon White again.

(Verse 4)
They cross the brittle glassroads mile by unforgiving mile,
Where clocks dispute the daylight and the echoes stand on trial.
They only want to understand the numbness and the breath,
That make their living bodies keep the memory of death.

(Bridge)
They ask why stone remembers when the living cannot say why,
And why the afterlight returns beneath an empty sky.
Each quiet place gives evidence but never shows a face,
So every answer fades away and leaves another trace.

(Outro)
The Whiteburn Pilgrims shoulder up their packs and onward roam,
For every road-worn mystery has made the road their home.
The world may never tell them why their pallid markings remain,
But still they walk from sign to sign and carry on the name.

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(Verse 1) They walk the ash roads slowly by a half-remembered code, With bells and patched-up field books marking every silent road. Their whiteburn scars lie numb and pale beneath the weathered skin, Like maps of something written where no witness entered in. (Verse 2) They kneel beside the glassfields when the sunset turns them dark, And measure every quiet site and every witness mark. Some search the fused horizon for a truth the world has known, While others hear unanswered names beneath the sheets of stone. (Chorus) The Whiteburn Pilgrims follow all the unanswered signs, Through roads that lose their distances and pale, unbroken lines. No Scar will speak its purpose, and no wound will yield a name, Yet still their bodies know the road and lead them through the same. (Verse 3) Some Houses call them holy and prepare a place of rest, Then ask them for a blessing like the White had marked them best. Some gates declare them cursed and turn them back through wind and rain, As though the marks upon their flesh could summon White again. (Verse 4) They cross the brittle glassroads mile by unforgiving mile, Where clocks dispute the daylight and the echoes stand on trial. They only want to understand the numbness and the breath, That make their living bodies keep the memory of death. (Chorus) The Whiteburn Pilgrims follow all the unanswered signs, Through roads that lose their distances and pale, unbroken lines. No Scar will speak its purpose, and no wound will yield a name, Yet still their bodies know the road and lead them through the same. (Bridge) They ask why stone remembers when the living cannot say why, And why the afterlight returns beneath an empty sky. Each quiet place gives evidence but never shows a face, So every answer fades away and leaves another trace. (Outro) The Whiteburn Pilgrims shoulder up their packs and onward roam, For every road-worn mystery has made the road their home. The world may never tell them why their pallid markings remain, But still they walk from sign to sign and carry on the name.

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