I always think of you this time of the night
When the moon glares down on my linen tomb
And a part of me feels hollow

I demummify myself and slog to the sink
Then gaze to the mirror and stare death in the face
Sunken peepers and tallow skin
So is the front of a hopeless romantic

I think about galumphing to your window
And my body longs for fulfillment
I limp silently in the moonlight
Along barren, windswept streets
To gaze upon your somnolent being

With my silhouette etched behind the curtain
I see you wake and quake with fear
My knees tremble as I nervously moan
To let me in and eat your brain