Lon:
Daytime turns me off, ’cause I can’t have tasty
Bites on live folks traipsin’ outskirts of town.
When dark comes, lunge, mouth, and soon they’re pasty
-faced; I’m lupine when the sun goes down.

I’ve fanged teeth, gore-gorge at nighttime;
My form’s best in day;
In the day, I’m upright, fine—
Hate it, chase it away!
I need sweet sang satin’—
There’s no light—I chew.
I’ve sang teeth, gore-gorge at nighttime.
I lam for forage—you!

Bela:
You talk about fangs like razors that can rend ye—
Got ’em in your jugular, and it’s tasting good.
Talk about bloody girls after a wench spree.
Screams high pierce the quiet neighborhood.

I’ve fanged teeth, gore-gorge at nighttime;
I rest in the day;
In the day’s when I’m supine—
Hate it, chase it away!
I need sweet sang [li]bation—
There’s no light—I chew
I’ve fanged teeth, gore-gorge at nighttime.
I sank teeth, gorged on you.