Vita, Vita, belle of the night,

The maddening beauty; source of my plight.

Though beautiful, inattentive and leaves me cold.

A darker nature takes its hold.

I follow her to a dusky den.

I see her speak to other men.

Harlot! Harpy! She's mine alone.

So when she's done, I follow her home.

She slips into bed, but so do I.

She fights my love with a prey-like cry.

Dead and buried, but undoubtedly mine.

And so, Mister Policeman, that is my crime.