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