On a dark desert highway,
Doomed woman stops there.
Worn out, shlepped from Phoenix,
Drivin' through the night air.
Up ahead in the distance,
She'd seen a flickering light.
Her eyes were heavy and her sight was dim.
Bad choice: she stopped for the night.

The place looked in a poor way;
Owner'd missed chance to sell,
But he's not thinkin' about pelf.
Besides, his mental health isn't so swell.

So, she banged on the desk bell
There, sheltered from the rain.
Soon, he vaulted down from the front door
Of his Gothic domain.

Hell's slum is the Motel;
Gals, he'll score ya.
Such a dumpy place,
Such a frumpy face
As mom wears the loon of the Motel;
Gals, he'll gore ya.
Don't ever stop here
'cause he's actin' queer.

His mind is schizoly twisted;
He gets a her-slay-spree yen.
Mom'd called the tot a simpy pretty boy. . .
He's 'round the bend.
Then his mom got a boyfriend--
Creep, humpin' pest.
Mom's lanced and dismembered--gone's chance of incest.

Before he called the chaplain
To give the last rites,
He spirited body from here
One dark, stormy night.
And now two voices are callin,
Though mom's "away."
Her makeup's on, her clothes--though kinda tight.
Crane, poor dear, he'll slay.

Don't come to this motel, gals, he'll core ya.
Such a bloody place
When "mummy" lays waste.
The demented loon first thinks you're swell, gals. . .adore ya,
But he'll then incise--
Sees through mother's eyes.

Marion's hunger feeling:
They drink milk that's on ice.
Norman says, "We're all just prisoners of fears,"
Then as mom, he'll slice.
And in his mother's chambers,
The mattress is corpse-creased.
He stabbed her with a steely knife,
Bed's gully she fills, deceased.
(Dead mummy he filled; he's pleased--
Practiced on sawdust-filled beasts.)

The "mad thing" dismembers;
Norm comes running, cleans the floor.
Cadavers in the swamp out back,
Crane he placed in trunk of Ford.

Sweet Sam, an upright man
Grabs Norm, who's about to cleave.
Mom won't let fly check out. . .saves its life,
But for bad boy--shan't grieve.