(sung to the tune of Born to Run)
In the day we hide from alien viruses and murderous skateboard teens,
At night we run from reptile hookers and vampire Charlie Sheens.
Sprung from fumes on the 405,
Undead Nicky Hilton wants to eat your face alive--Oh,
Maybe this town rips the bones from your back;
It's a death trap,
It's a suicide pact.
Better get out with our brains,
Or kids like us, baby we'll be torn in twain!