I’m the cobwebbed stairs, the ancient bones

I’m the shadow rippling cobblestones,

I’m the stagnant swamp, the black lagoon

I’m the branches scratching at the moon

I’m the funeral service, the unknown mourner

I’m the demon cowering in the corner

I’m the sexton’s spade, the new thrown clay

I’m what’s left when they walk away

I’m the ebony coffin, satin lining

Pale thin lips in the back room dying

Pale thin lips in the back room dying

I’m the walking dead, the fly by night

I’m the last of the fading light

In the unbarred door, the open encasement

I’m the stairs leading down to the basement

The four post bed, the let down hair

I’m the cross that you forgot to wear

I’m the highest voltage, the shining slab

The crack of midnight in the doctor’s lab

I’m the night before, the morning after

Echoing of the baron’s laughter

Echoing of the baron’s laughter

I’m Jonathan Harker, I’m Lucy’s trance

Elegant count’s hypnotic glance

I’m the wooden mallet, the sharpened stake

I’m the precautions you forgot to take

I’m the mummy’s curse, the passing bell

I’m the fortune they wouldn’t tell

I’m pyromania, Transylvania

I’m out of breath, I’m worse than death

I’m the late night air, exhilarating

I’m with you in the darkness, waiting