The End Of Harvest Lyrics

In this image, the air sits as still as it were painted
on a canvas
Blue smoke, of joys gone, is still here
Cloaking a soul sold to method and number
Sold, as if the devil's deal had fallen short

Now spooked by the ink of his own pen
The map of a life lived, and the beta versions all over
the floor, have all
gone awry All the lines are spidering from here to there, and then
back again
For the purpose, they are too thin
And they make no sense

At the end of the day
By and between the devil and me
This agreement is made and entered into

A moth on the back wall
He witnessed and then carried on with his own business

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