Dracula sits hung on the barstool
picking his teeth
complaining that his mojo
just ain't working right.
"There's all these women and women and women...
They tell me that I got the look;
I never said I was out for less than blood.
Then they tell me all I want from them is blood."
The guys at the bar are nodding and bonding.
What is it that gives these vamps such a bad rap?
Sure they know women, or sure they want to, or sure
they think they do, or sure sure sure.
They love this guy and his flashy caped suit.
They love this guy and his easy manly manners.
But they can't help wondering where the wife's been working out
and why they're not getting any.
The ladies in the bar are blushing and angry.
Bit her once and never called.
He's a little tramp \(em she means vamp \(em
And did you see who he's talking to now.
Why didn't he ask me? I'd tell him if he asked me.
It's just dirt he keeps in that coffin anyway.
"Well," he says, lifting his mug, "Sometimes my life feels like
one big bit and run accident but, at least Jones
knows which way the water is."