Come see the vampires of New York 
Come lose your mind in Central Park 
But don't leave your soul behind 
Come take in 8th street after dark 
Such peculiar people you'll remark 
You might even see a murder 

And all the whores on Bleecker Street 
They wear the blissful grin 
Caused by the drugs they take 
To relieve them of their sins 

And '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 
But please watch your step 
as you're getting off, kids