Darius: Charissa, Charissa, please make me your ghoul.
I’m brave and I’m smart, and really no fool.
Charissa, Charissa, please make me the one,
And I’ll be the perfect ghoul.

Charissa, Charissa, I’ll be so nice—
I’m not a Hell’s Angel, but a Biker for Christ.
Tooling around on my bike, you’ll be
The envy of the coterie.

For a medium, you’re pretty normal.
For a Nos, you’re a sexy young thing.
I hate for things to be formal,
But you don’t tell me anything!

Charissa, Charissa, I’m three steps bloodbound.
I’m starting to miss you when you’re not around.
Night after night, in St. John’s, I’m alone,
So make me a ghoul of your own.

Charissa: Darius, oh Darius, am I the vamp for you!
I’m cultured! I’m pretty! (I like dead people too.)
But I’m a nice girl, a live girl. True? True!
I promise I won’t tell you anything to cause you stress,
And I’ll make up stories, so you won’t guess!

Sabbat? Camarilla? Secret societies!
Vampires? Bloodhunts? Just antique niceties.
Cryptic inside jokes—nothing more.
Danger? There’s a little—I’d like to learn to brawl,
But purely for my defense, that’s all.

For the moment, though, ignore that. You’re what I’m looking for—
You’re caring, intelligent, calm, and affectionate…did I mention we’re in a war?
Darius: Charissa, Charissa, that’s sort of bizarre.
But I still like you just as you are.
I’ll teach you to shoot and I’ll teach you to fight
And help you to do what’s right.

Frankly, I don’t quite get it—
Some things just aren’t adding up.
Like why you’re always…forget it,
I just realized you’re a C-cup!

Charissa, Charissa, let me be your man.
I’ll play it cool. Don’t be concerned—
Though I’m a Believer, you’ll never get burned.
So let’s meet with the Prince, fight the Sabbat,
Kick us some ass, teach me the rules,
And I’ll be the best of ghouls!

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