[Intro]
[Clean guitar plays only the first two notes of the judgment motif.]

[Verse 1]
The courthouse lost its northern roof in winter twenty-nine,
Rain entered through the archive wall and blurred the outer signs.
The magistrate was buried with his silver chain and seal;
The witchfinder had left the town before the spring released the field.
New judges spoke more softly, though the cells remained below,
And families kept lists of names the court refused to show.
A young apprentice climbed the loft to inventory twine,
And found a cloth-bound packet near a final blank line.

[Verse 2]
Inside were Mara’s letter and the property account,
The widow’s field assigned in ink, each acre and amount.
A statement in a different hand preserved what Peter said:
“He named no soul, confessed no pact and guarded them instead.”
There lay the clerk’s own written note, confession in his hand,
Not begging for forgiveness, naming every lie he planned.
The apprentice read until the bells divided three from nine,
Then carried all the evidence beside the last blank line.

[Refrain]
The last blank line was waiting for a name that never came,
A narrow space beneath the charge, prepared to carry blame.
The last blank line held nothing—no neighbour, child or wife.
An empty line can sometimes be the first defence of life.

[Verse 3]
The clerk’s own trial record stopped before the final day;
The pages named his broken oath, the fire and his decay.
One witness claimed he cursed the court; another claimed he prayed.
One line described the crimson cord, another named the blade.
No sentence marked the bottom. No burial place was found.
Some said he died within the jail; some said he left the town.
The truth remained uncertain where the missing pages end—
A record can preserve a lie or lose an honest friend.

[Instrumental Break]
[The clean guitar theme is joined by measured drums and a restrained harmonized lead.]

[Bridge]
The apprentice could have sealed the file
And left the evidence beneath the tile.
Instead he copied every sheet
And read them in the market street.

[Build-up]
The baker’s son returned the scales.
The shepherd’s claim to pasture failed.
Mara’s sister claimed the clock
And placed it on her father’s block.

[Final Chorus]
The last blank line was waiting for a name that never came,
A narrow space beneath the charge, prepared to carry blame.
The last blank line held nothing—no neighbour, child or wife.
An empty line became that day the first defence of life.
The last blank line remembered what the fullest books conceal:
The hand that writes can serve the lie—or break the court’s red seal.

[Outro - Older and Younger Male Duet]
Older Voice: The ledger burned,
Younger Voice: But pages remain.
Older Voice: The bells still ring,
Younger Voice: But not all the same.
Older Voice: Ash marked the parchment.
Younger Voice: Rain blurred the sign.
Older Voice: One name began the story.
Younger Voice: None filled the last blank line.

[Outro Coda - Duet]
[Clean guitar completes the inverted three-note motif and ends without a fade.]
Older Voice: Do not praise the empty page
Younger Voice: If fear still rules the hall.
Older Voice: A line is only innocent
Younger Voice: When someone will not fill it
Both Voices: At another person’s fall.