I have never touched a cloud, not for a lack of trying,
And I’ve never questioned why do birds fly.
Things aren’t meant to be questioned
If you question the walls come crashing down –
Isn’t that how you kill a vampire? By tearing down your walls and inviting them into your home?
My mother raised me to appreciate garlic more than any other seasoning.
I think she had trouble slaying her vampire.
We can’t all be Buffy – no one wants to be a Slayerette.
I’ve never liked garlic; it covers things up,
And my mother’s warned me about covering the truth
But I think if I could taste a cloud, it’d taste like a honeysuckle;
Fleeting like the blood we bleed
And the love our vampires drink.