Down the twisting river we do float
but at the edge of the throat
we stop short, for a moment
to stop and enjoy the scent
it feels so warm, yet so cold
no matter young nor old
elixir so sweet
the taste of death, to keep you on your feet
After and over, time and again
Always return to this savory sin
death to them and feast to me
as they fall back into the black sea
with Snap Hands, and just me.