Ten days of overwhelming guilt,
And ten night of worshipping you.
You told me to write it in a letter,
But I just refused and then I sang:
Na-na-na-na.

Through the door you wandered,
Out from the cold. 
The touch of your skin sent shivers,
Down my spine,
But the crazy thing, you won’t love me.

A-F-U-T-U-R-I-S-T-I-D-R-A-C-U-L-
That’s what you’ve [bad word] a Futuristic Dracula.
You say [bad word] back,
You’re [bad word] back.

All these things, they make no sense,
And you’re fangs they shine,
Reflecting you’re regrets. 

I will sing for you. I will sing. 

All these things, they make no sense,
And you’re fangs they shine,
Reflecting you’re regrets. 

And you’re love survives,
By a simple bite in the neck,
If I [bad word] you would I be in over my head?

But the crazy thing, you won’t love me.