The Letters

With quill and silver knife
She carved a poison pen
Wrote to her lovers wife
"Your husband's seed has fed my flesh."

As if a leper's face
That tainted letter graced
The wife with choke-stone throat
Ran to the day with tear blind eyes

Impaled on nails of ice
And raked with emerald fire
The wife with soul like snow
With steady hand begins to write.

"I'm still, I need no life
To serve on boys and men
What's mine was yours is dead
I take my leave of mortal flesh."

Fripp/Sinfield