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