MERCY 023 – The Cold Box Truce | The Mercy

Thrash Metal, Southern Rock, High Energy, Heavy, Strong Clear Male Vocals

(Verse 2)
The soldiers blocked the convoy where the ruined bridge lay bare,
And claimed the box for wounded men who served their banner there.
The Culture Exchange answered that the medicine was sworn,
To every child and fever ward, no matter where they were born.

(Chorus)
Hold the cold box steady, let no rifle set the law,
For medicine belongs to every living breath they saw.
If one side takes the cultures, every clinic closes tight,
And glass and ice will judge the flags that barter life for might.

(Verse 3)
The healers sent the warning through the Long Call in the rain,
That treatment would be halted if the soldiers seized the chain.
The clinics closed their ledgers and the cold rooms dimmed their light,
While rival camps discovered what their wounded shared that night.

(Verse 4)
The captains met at daybreak where the guarded wagons stood,
With rifles lowered slowly for the region’s common good.
They signed a route protection oath and named each neutral door,
Then watched the healers carry life across the lines once more.

(Bridge)
The truce was built from fragile things that shattered when betrayed,
A vial, a measured temperature, a promise carefully made.
No army loved its enemy, no grievance found release,
But every living patient made the cold box serve as peace.

(Outro)
So still the Culture couriers cross the roads through frost and flame,
And every guarded clinic marks the vow beside its name.
The price of life is labour, trust and doors kept open wide,
Not ownership of medicine by any single side.

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(Verse 1) The healers crossed the border roads with cultures packed in ice, While every flag that watched them pass demanded its own price. They carried glass and measured cold through checkpoints armed and grim, For one failed seal could darken every clinic at the rim. (Verse 2) The soldiers blocked the convoy where the ruined bridge lay bare, And claimed the box for wounded men who served their banner there. The Culture Exchange answered that the medicine was sworn, To every child and fever ward, no matter where they were born. (Chorus) Hold the cold box steady, let no rifle set the law, For medicine belongs to every living breath they saw. If one side takes the cultures, every clinic closes tight, And glass and ice will judge the flags that barter life for might. (Verse 3) The healers sent the warning through the Long Call in the rain, That treatment would be halted if the soldiers seized the chain. The clinics closed their ledgers and the cold rooms dimmed their light, While rival camps discovered what their wounded shared that night. (Verse 4) The captains met at daybreak where the guarded wagons stood, With rifles lowered slowly for the region’s common good. They signed a route protection oath and named each neutral door, Then watched the healers carry life across the lines once more. (Chorus) Hold the cold box steady, let no rifle set the law, For medicine belongs to every living breath they saw. If one side takes the cultures, every clinic closes tight, And glass and ice will judge the flags that barter life for might. (Bridge) The truce was built from fragile things that shattered when betrayed, A vial, a measured temperature, a promise carefully made. No army loved its enemy, no grievance found release, But every living patient made the cold box serve as peace. (Outro) So still the Culture couriers cross the roads through frost and flame, And every guarded clinic marks the vow beside its name. The price of life is labour, trust and doors kept open wide, Not ownership of medicine by any single side.

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