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