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