He stalks hungrily, hopes to meet
someone who’s foolish to go
out at night, staying off the streets
where the lights are all aglow.

He is ready, yeah,
he is ready to kiss
a neck and after, bite into it deep.
Then he will have hemoglobin bliss.
From the neck liquid seeps. Drip.

Nix, nix, nix!

He shuns the sun; night bloodlust,

Swig, swig, swig.

His drug is blood; bite he must.
There a glug and big gulp and another swigged gulp.
He loves fresh blood; bite he must.
Watch out or he’ll get you
and chug your blood; die you must….

…reborn before long as one of the throng
that roams to set upon
folks that don’t stay home, where safety is had—
they walk at night all alone.

You’ll be happy lapping up a tide
of fluid that’s mighty sweet.
You, too, will have hemoglobin bliss—
the “chow” cannot be beat. Eat up!

Beat the heat.

You’ll shun the sun; night bloodlust.

Feast, feast, feast.

Your drug is blood; bite you must.
You’ll be gorging on corpuscles all the night long,
You’re doomed, and now bite you must.
But you’ll be causing new
ones that seek at night to munch.

Bite!

So slake it—
bite and gulp,
dry ’em up, yeah!

Taste!
There’s numberless bites…bloodlust;
you love it at night…bloodlust.
You give ’em a fright, then suck
until they’re drier than dust.
Ooze out!

You have had your way—blood squirted out then it ran
and dripped down to the ground.
Heart’s beating, then you’re eating what’s sweet, and you’re glad…
could say you’re a chow hound. Burp!

You are deadly, part of a deadly crew,
but sun is rising in the east.
To coffin you run, but then you trip,
and you’re undone by the solar heat. [Screams]

Heat, heat, heat.

The end of your nighttime fun.

Beat, beat, beat.

The end of night—now you’re done,
’cause you stumbled, you’re gone; no more can you set on
a neck with a bit-and-run.
Stake was not needed for you.
You stumbled…then fried by sun.