Lyrics
Come see the vampires of New York, huh-huh
Come lose your mind in Central Park, huh-huh
But don't leave your soul behind, oh
Come take in 8th Street after dark, huh-huh
Such peculiar people you'll remark, huh-huh
You might even see a murder, oh
And all the whores on Bleecker Street
They wear the blissful grin
Caused by the drugs they take
To relieve them of their sins, oh
And oh, oh Lord, I think she's dying
I heard somebody say, "I think she's dying"
And oh, oh Lord, I think she's dying
Or maybe she's already dead and maybe she's gone to Mars
Maybe we could even write her epitaph in the stars
It'd say, "If you go away from here
If you go a million miles
Come downtown to see them go
Into the den of the vampires of New York, huh-huh
But please watch your step as you're getting off, kids"
