I would cut my legs and [bad word] off
 When I think of Boris Karloff and Kinski
 In the dark of the moon
 It made me dream of Nosferatu
 Trapped on the isle of Doctor Moreau
 Oh wouldn’t it be lovely
 I was thinking Peter Lorre
 When things got pretty gory as I
 Crossed to the Brandenburg Gate
 I was feeling snappy perhaps I’d been napping
 And I’d just ate
 following heart can tear you apart
 On a midnight to 8 shift
 graveyard romance can only give one chance
 As the tombstones weave and breathe
 Feeling happy when my heart got beating
 On a Sunday afternoon
 I dreamt of breezes going through the treeses
 And stars were still illumed
 I have three hearts that I keep apart
 Trying to relate
 To normal feelings and the nightime reelings
 And some absynthe [bad word] so late
 The cook got [bad word] and all the whores they [bad word]  Onto the size of dessert plates
 But me I’m happy cause I got my little nappy
 And some opium to set me straight
 I’m just a small town girl who wants to give it a whirl
 While my looks still hold me straight
 Straight up to illusion and fantasy’s fusion
 Of reality mixed with drink
 I’m just a small town girl who’s gonna give life a whirl
 Looking at the Brandenburg Gate