Err!
Whoa!
Transylvania is where I call home,
I got a lust for blood and my fangs are chrome,
Skid Row blaring from the coffin that I own,
Motley Crüe when I’m sitting all alone,
I can’t die but I fly in the middle of the night,
Guns and Roses when the feeling is right,
Dead motherfucker and I really do suck,
Like Twisted Sister “I Want To Rock!”
Well I want to paint your face,
With blood and mascara,
Well I want to dress you up,
In black lace and horror.
Follow me home where I live all alone,
Down the end of a street called malice,
Where the light never shines on this castle of mine,
And the speakers are spewing out Alice,
Pull up a chair and sit over there,
By the dark of an unlit fire,
Feel a shiver of fear as you know you are near,
To the shadow of the Glampire.
Whoa!
Judas Priest! You look like a miss,
With a two fang smile just looking for a Kiss,
New York Doll with a widow’s peak,
Poison in every little word you speak,
You got all the style and all the panache,
Of seventies, pre-punk, glam rock trash,
Got my evil eye set on you,
Something I can really sink my teeth into.
Well I want to paint your face,
With blood and mascara,
Well I want to dress you up,
In black lace and horror.
Follow me home where I live all alone,
Down the end of a street called malice,
Where the light never shines on this castle of mine,
And the speakers are spewing out Alice,
Pull up a chair and sit over there,
By the dark of an unlit fire,
Feel a shiver of fear as you know you are near,
To the shadow of the Glampire.
Follow me home where I live all alone,
Down the end of a street called malice,
Where the light never shines on this castle of mine,
And the speakers are spewing out Alice,
Pull up a chair and sit over there,
By the dark of an unlit fire,
Feel a shiver of fear as you know you are near,
To the shadow of the Glampire.
Shadow of the Glampire,
Shadow of the Glampire,
Shadow of the Glampire. |
