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