Tape recorder spinning slow tonight

In this basement filled with neon light

Questions burning on my journalist tongue

About the songs that you have sung

Your fingers trace the mixing board

Like secrets that you can't afford

To tell the world what lies beneath

The melodies that make hearts bleed

Something's not right in your eyes...

You feed on frequencies now

Electric pulse instead of vow

No crimson thirst, just binary dreams

Nothing is quite what it seems

Digital vampire in the machine

Centuries old but chrome-scene clean

You tell me how you used to hunt

For passion in each mortal stunt

But now you harvest from the waves

The emotions that your music saves

Studio wires like silver veins

Carrying all our joys and pains

You've learned to taste what humans feel

Through every note that you make real

Now I see what you really are...

You feed on frequencies now

Electric pulse instead of vow

No crimson thirst, just binary dreams

Nothing is quite what it seems

Digital vampire in the machine

Centuries old but chrome-scene clean

Interview turns to confession

Your immortal obsession

With the rhythm of our hearts

You tear our feelings apart

Then rebuild them in your art

You feed on frequencies now

(I understand your sacred vow)

Electric pulse instead of blood

(This digital eternal flood)

Nothing is quite what it seems

Digital vampire in the machine

Forever young in neon dreams