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    I met this bloke who looked like a goth
    But soon found out that he was not
    He was a genuine count from Transylvannia
    He said: Marry me, that's where I'll take ya

    To a ruined castle on top of a cliff
    Where the air's so cold it would freeze your tits
    And there he taught me how to fly
    Two lovers together in a purple sky

    And we had bats for dinner and bats for tea
    Bats for him and bats for me
    A big fat rat for Sunday roast
    For breakfast, we had bats on toast

    And when the cooking became a chore
    We'd just chop them up and eat them raw
    Or open a window facing south
    And let them fly straight in our mouths

    Bats for dinner, bats for tea (bats, we'll fly like the)
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea (bats that are in the sky)
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea (you'll surely die)
    Bats for tea

    Bats for dinner, bats for tea (bats for dinner,)
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea (bat filled pie,)
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea (or some evil stir fry)
    Bats for tea

    The neighbours didn't like us much
    They seemed to bear some sort of a grudge
    Attacked the castle with flaming torches
    Burned the stables and stole the Porsches

    Then the local vicar, a miserable tart
    Stuck a wooden stake through my boyfriend's heart
    I escaped but I'm alone again
    In a one-room flat in Sydenham

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    And there's no bats for dinner, no bats for tea
    No bats from the caves or the belfry
    It's peas and cabbage for Sunday roast
    Or if I'm lucky, beans on toast

    And when the cooking becomes a chore
    I'll just chop them up and eat them raw
    And think about of how things used to be
    When there was just my count and me

    There's no fairytale castles in the sky
    But the room's so cold, it would make you cry
    And still sometimes at night I fly
    Over London's dark grey sky

    And think of him in another world
    And hope he's waiting for his girl
    One day, united we will be
    Together forever for eternity

    And there'll be bats for dinner and bats for tea
    Bats for him and bats for me
    A big fat rat for Sunday roast
    For breakfast we'll have bats on toast

    And when the cooking becomes a chore
    We'll just chop them up and eat them raw
    Or open a window facing south
    And let them fly straight in our mouths

    Bats for dinner, bats for tea (bats, we'll fly like the)
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea (bats that are in the sky)
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea (you'll surely die)
    Bats for tea

    Bats for dinner, bats for tea (bats for dinner)
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea (bat filled pie)
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea (or some evil stir fry)
    Bats for tea

    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for tea

    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for tea

    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for tea

    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for tea

    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for tea

    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for dinner, bats for tea
    Bats for tea

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