Oh, my vampire, your glazed, crimson eyes are catching. Mine from weeping and yours from the Mary Jane you've been dispatching. Oh, my vampire do tell me why you press your lips upon my neck yet only remain on the surface? And how you reside hours upon hours under the sun having your blunt burnt yet not your skin? My vampire, it's murder to know the answers to your own questions. Oh, my vampire, you make me so sad. What with watching you shiver and cry, begging for more - you've gone mad. Now, my vampire, a pair of healthy lungs you already lack, but once you've lost your mind there's no chance in getting it back. Oh my vampire, I wish you could see how hard you've made it for me. If only you'd have given me more than a hickey, if you'd have just gouged your fangs into my skin to taste my scarlet juice, you would've gotten a happy ending. With us two and maybe three. That would've been heaven compared to the pain on us you've inflicted. I'd just always thought it'd be easier to say he was my vampire than to say he was addicted.