Don’t go out in the evening;
hurry home at the end of day.
You’ll be safe in the morning—
that’s when in their coffins they will stay.
At night when you retire,
lock all the doors and windows, or else
there is a chance they’ll steal your sanguinary wealth.

They are not expired—
as in dead—yet they’ve no life spark.
By bites they’re sired.
When a throat they’ve found—fangs in; swiggin’ starts.

The message couldn’t be clearer:
Nocturnally, you gotta find a safe place.
When you’re some place near a mirror,
and a view of a guy, there’s no trace,
get the hell right out of there,
because you’ll know something is amiss,
and you might very well be snared
in a Transylvanian tryst.

Then you’ll be expired—
soon you’ll be playing a new part.
You’ll have been sired
And just know: As a vampire you will start.

You’ll never get any older,
but you’ll exist for many centuries.
When your blood starts getting colder,
you’ll need new doses constantly.

Stay off the streets of your town,
or they’ll be carving you up alright.
There’s no way they won’t be hungry—
but then again, they are starving every night
They gotta dry their victims,
so in every nook and corner they are gonna look.
When they find necks, they lick ’em,
after they have got a firm dental hook.

Don’t be a denier
of their existence, or you might be their mark.
Be a defyer
of evil world of vampires in the dark.
Then you won’t expire,
if to this and many other warnings you will hark.
When you retire,
garlic-guard yourself ’gainst vampires in the dark.