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