As  The  Sun  Sets  Beneath The  Horizon 
 Beyond  The  Cliffs,  The Remaining Heat 
 Is   Pooled  In   The   Fires   Of   The 
 Wanderers, And The Dark Gleams Of  Their 
       Knives, Wanting To Find You.       
                                          
 Caught Agaist The  Wall, Stopping  Time, 
 But  In  The  Next Moment  Youre  Thread 
            Around A Glass Edge           
                                          
                                   
             Period Of            
       Transformation       
         Oil And Fire        
                            
                                          
 And  We Grill  You,  The  Most  Precious 
            And Crisp Critter,            
          Pierce You On A Dagger          
          And Put You Over Fire           
                                          
                  A Taste