[Intro]
[Clean guitar arpeggios leave space between the three descending motif notes.]

[Verse 1 - Clerk, Male Lead]
The gaoler brought a folded sheet concealed beneath his coat,
A narrow scrap of parish stock with hurried lines she wrote.
The seal was made from candle wax, not crimson court supply;
A fingerprint remained within, a small imperfect sign.

[Verse 1B - Mara, Female Letter Voice]
“Do you remember river stones we counted after rain?
You slipped beside the alder roots; I pulled you out again.
You said a written promise was a thing no one could bend.
I ask you now to read my words before they mark my end.”

[Verse 2 - Mara, Female Letter Voice]
“My sister says they questioned her about the herbs I keep.
They would not let her sit or drink; they would not let her sleep.
The roots were for our father’s chest, the bark was for his pain;
The magistrate called knowledge proof that evil shaped my brain.
They claim I met with Elsbeth on the Sunday before dawn.
I brought her bread when fever came; by sunrise I was gone.
Your copy says I cursed the priest and spat upon the floor.
You watched me answer quietly. What is your writing for?”

[Refrain - Clerk, Male Lead]
There was wax on her letter, there was blood beneath the nail,
There was damp within the paper from the winter in the jail.
There was wax on her letter, and her fingerprint remained;
One human ridge in yellow wax against the court’s red stain.

[Verse 3 - Clerk, Male Lead]
I opened up the hearing notes and found the altered phrase:
The clerk above me struck one word and shifted two whole days.
“Brought bread” became “brought blight”; her calm became “contempt”;
The margin gave no reason why the wording had been bent.
I took my knife to scrape the line and write the wording true,
But footsteps crossed the archive stones before the blade went through.
I closed the book, concealed the note and let the false remain;
My wrist stayed free while hers was made to carry every chain.

[Chorus - Clerk, Male Lead]
Wax on her letter, warming slowly in my hand,
A mark no seal could authorize, a truth no court had planned.
Wax on her letter, softer than the words I read;
She asked me for one honest line—I gave her none instead.
Wax on her letter, one small print I could not clear;
The closer that I held it, the more the court appeared.

[Guitar Solo]
[A restrained melodic solo begins on clean guitar and passes into harmonized distortion.]

[Bridge - Clerk, Male Lead]
I told myself I served the page,
Not iron locks or righteous rage.
The truth was always in my reach—
I chose the safety of no speech.

[Final Chorus - Clerk, Male Lead]
Wax on her letter, bending slowly in my hand,
A mark no judge could counterfeit, a truth no fear had planned.
Wax on her letter, softer than the words I read;
She asked me for one honest line—I left the false instead.
Wax on her letter, now the yellow carried red;
Her living print remained with me while law prepared her dead.

[Outro - Clerk, Male Lead]
[Clean guitar returns without drums.]
I folded her letter twice,
Then hid it in my sleeve.
The page I should have altered
Was the page I chose to leave.