MERCY 012 – The Grain Silo Saints | The Mercy

Thrash Metal, Southern Rock, High Energy, Heavy

(Verse 2)
They called the stored abundance both a covenant and trust,
Yet hungry hands at closed gates learned how quickly mercy rusts.
The farmers claimed their labour gave them first and final right,
The starving claimed no harvest should be hidden through the night.

(Chorus)
The silo stood as chapel, fortress, judgement, law, and blame,
Where grain became a sacrament and hunger spoke each name.
Its silver walls accused them while the winter crossed the land,
For every locked-up bushel asked who owned the saving hand.

(Verse 3)
The keepers saved the seed stock for a planting still unborn,
While children at the outer fence had nothing left by morn.
The armed patrols said opening would empty every floor,
The travellers said tomorrow meant no mercy at the door.

(Verse 4)
They rationed by the ledger, work, and witness through the cold,
Yet every bowl they measured made the quiet anger bold.
A founder’s oath, a stranger’s need, a future crop to sow,
All stood beneath the towers while the bitter north winds blow.

(Bridge)
They knew that seed consumed too soon would leave the springtime bare,
And knew that seed withheld too long could murder through despair.
So saints were made of keepers who could choose whom not to feed,
And every guarded measure turned survival into creed.

(Outro)
Now prairie fires move softly where the sealed grain shadows fall,
And travellers still remember every blessing, shot, and wall.
The towers kept the future, yet their mercy bore a cost,
For grain can save the living while it numbers all the lost.

2075/7500

(Verse 1) They sealed the prairie towers when the winter stripped the plain, And counted every measure of the guarded founder grain. The Seed House held the ledgers where the future fields were weighed, While rifles watched the travellers who gathered in the shade. (Verse 2) They called the stored abundance both a covenant and trust, Yet hungry hands at closed gates learned how quickly mercy rusts. The farmers claimed their labour gave them first and final right, The starving claimed no harvest should be hidden through the night. (Chorus) The silo stood as chapel, fortress, judgement, law, and blame, Where grain became a sacrament and hunger spoke each name. Its silver walls accused them while the winter crossed the land, For every locked-up bushel asked who owned the saving hand. (Verse 3) The keepers saved the seed stock for a planting still unborn, While children at the outer fence had nothing left by morn. The armed patrols said opening would empty every floor, The travellers said tomorrow meant no mercy at the door. (Verse 4) They rationed by the ledger, work, and witness through the cold, Yet every bowl they measured made the quiet anger bold. A founder’s oath, a stranger’s need, a future crop to sow, All stood beneath the towers while the bitter north winds blow. (Chorus) The silo stood as chapel, fortress, judgement, law, and blame, Where grain became a sacrament and hunger spoke each name. Its silver walls accused them while the winter crossed the land, For every locked-up bushel asked who owned the saving hand. (Bridge) They knew that seed consumed too soon would leave the springtime bare, And knew that seed withheld too long could murder through despair. So saints were made of keepers who could choose whom not to feed, And every guarded measure turned survival into creed. (Outro) Now prairie fires move softly where the sealed grain shadows fall, And travellers still remember every blessing, shot, and wall. The towers kept the future, yet their mercy bore a cost, For grain can save the living while it numbers all the lost.

0/500