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