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