[heartbeat intro, 120/second; persists throughout the song]

Whenever dark is fallin’,
Those roaming spirits—Romania-started—come “alive,”
Until the day is dawnin’,
Many throats will have been chewed and bitten in delight.

When they’re movin’ from their lair,
Groovin’ on jugulars they bare—
They live for the night,
They live for a bite. . .
Well, that’s not quite right:

They’re “undead”—the semantics
We have designed for those who’ve dined on blood after fangs lance,
They’ve craven, grave antics. . .
They creep from people who can hurl a cross at their glance.

When they move past mirrors, they’re
Not seen in that showglass that glares;
They’re nowhere in sight,
And that means, you might
Say, something’s not right!

So don’t go out tonight;
They will bleed you suckers dry—I think that I’ve
Just punned, though PQ’s* slight
(I’m a lame punner).
Those teeth will give a sharp bite—then not alive
Will you be, and bone-dry
And your face: bone-white.
Not livid—bone-white,
Not living—not quite. . .
Blood-licking delight

Though you’ll be movin’, all you’ll care
For is that sweet jugular fare.
You’ll live for the night,
You’ll live for a bite,
You’ll sleep in daylight,
You will be a sight,
You will look a fright,
You’ll live for the night.

So don’t go out tonight;
They will bleed you, suck you dry—then not alive
Will you be—well, not quite.
People will duck you
And seek refuge from sharp bites—so they will dive
For cover—at least try.

The way you will be deadened:
A guy with big ones comes a-cleaving—holds the hammer high,
Pounds the spike till reddened
Is the gash in heart that beats no more. . .after bite.

So, live for the night,
Don’t skip out at night
And you’ll be alright.
No, don’t be movin’ on out there
Or you’ll be their jugular fare. . .
Slit you at night.

Sit home at night,
Stay out of sight,
Lay low at night,
Keep cross in sight,
Something to bite:
Spheroid that’s white,
Bulb that won’t light
Up house at night,
Make a braid tight—
Garlic; you might
Avoid a bite
At the vein’s site.


*paronomasia quotient