Woke up this mornin’ feelin’ tined;
There’s something spectral in my mind:
Last night I sensed a rude churl who tracked in some mud.
Something tells me I’m into sucking blood
(Something tells me I’m into sucking)

He’s the kind of churl who likes to bite. . .
Think I can tell: he was here last night;
He lanced, opened me like I’d chomp a spud
(He lanced, licked me like I’d chomp a spud)
Something tells me I’m into sucking blood
(Something tells me I’m into sucking)

He only lanced for a minute or two,
And then he sucked opened me and had a chew.
Can I be calling for glugs
Of hemoglobin? Want streaming chugs?
(Want hemo gobblin’ and steaming chugs?)

I walk post-gloam and seek belles and lads
In whom to sink my teeth and cause one-bite scabs.
It’s my task to bleed, or I’m weak;
I need leaking that’s rud-
dy; task’s to bleed ’em—open like a spring bud
(My task’s to bleed ’em—open like a spring bud)
Something tells me I’m into sucking blood
(Something tells me I’m into sucking
Something tells me I’m into sucking. Yummmmmmmmmmm!)

I walk alone; I’m hellishly fam-
ished; I’m gonna need more than just one slight dram.
It’s my task to bleed, so I seek
Apple cheeks that are rud-
dy; I seek cheeks that gleam like unplucked rosebud
Something tells me I’m into sucking blood
(Something tells me I’m into sucking)
Something tells me I’m into sucking blood
(Something tells me I’m into sucking)
To sucking blood, sucking blood, sucking blood