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