At the Limit of Fertile Land Lyrics

Mesmerized by the outline of a shadow cast by a phantom
This torn wet-smelling hallucination of the body
a pitiful remnant torn from weak old fingers
The smoke trembling under the roof
The sound of wind against the elm
The thin perilous condition of negative entropy
Discourse is not life
Its time is not ours
These are the arrows that kill sleep in the night at all hours
The flood is gone, the ebb has come