Vampires

Vampires, real vampires, didn't nibble on the necks of nubile young virgins, They tore people to pieces and sucked the blood out of the chunks,

Believe nothing you hear and only one half that you see,

It's not the house that's haunted... It's your son.

No tears please, it's a waste of good suffering,

Death has come to your little town, Sheriff,

We all go a little mad sometimes,

There's a monster outside my room. Can I have a glass of water?

Hope not ever to see Heaven,

I have come to lead you to the other shore; into eternal darkness; into the fire and into ice,

Normal is an illusion,

What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly,

It is a mistake to fancy that horror is associated inextricably with darkness, silence, and solitude.

I’m so curious about knowing the unknown;

It can be scary, but I see it as a game,

Despite my ghoulish reputation,

I really have the heart of a small boy,

I keep it in a jar on my desk,

The last man on Earth sat alone in a room,

There was a knock on the door.

Oh yes, there will be blood,

Just when you think you've hit rock bottom,

You realize you're standing on another trapdoor,

We ask only to be reassured about the noises in the cellar,

And the window that should not have been open,

Sometimes dead is better.

Demons are like obedient dogs;

They come when they are called,

Last night I saw upon the stair,

A little man who wasn’t there,

He wasn’t there again today,

Oh, how I wish he’d go away.

Everybody is a book of blood; wherever we’re opened, we’re red,

The world outside had its own rules, and those rules were not human.

When there’s no more room in hell,

The dead will walk the earth,

Wendy, darling, the light of my life,

I’m not gonna hurt you,

I’m just gonna bash your brains in,

No one escapes from life alive.

Maybe all the schemes of the devil; were nothing compared to what man could think up,

The monsters that rose from the dead,

They are nothing compared to the ones we carry in our hearts,

Listen to them, the children of the night,

What music they make.

Sometimes the things in our heads; are far worse than anything they could put in books or on film,

Even the dead tell stories,

The greatest trick the devil pulled was convincing the world there was only one of him,

Everyone is a moon and has a dark side,

Which he never shows to anybody,

That cold ain’t the weather,

That’s death approaching.

I see dead people.