Текст песни The End Of Harvest

As written in the booklet: 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