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