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