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            
        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