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