[Intro, low, amused, half-spoken] Ah, amigo... You need something rare? Something sacred? Something wicked? Then come closer, sí? Do not waste my time... unless you pay for it. [Verse 1, smooth, swaggering] I got demon blood in a black glass vial, Saint blood blessed with a bitter smile, Virgin blood, pure and pale, Hot red sin by the measured sale. You want monster, martyr, sinner, saint? I got what your clean men say they ain’t. I got storm in a bottle, ash in a vein, I got pain for power and prayer for pain. Backroom whispers, lantern low, Every hungry little shadow know: If it bleeds, if it burns, if it makes men crawl, Jul Sarvek, cariño, he can get it all. [Pre-Chorus, teasing, rising] So don’t be shy, don’t be slow, Tell me what you need to flow— Engine, ritual, curse or cure? I sell certainty... nothing pure. [Chorus, big, catchy, slick] One more bottle, one more coin, Come, mi friend, cross the line, Leave a little more silver here, Feed your craft, your thirst, your fear. One more bottle, one more drop, I got what your morals stop, And every sinner in this town Comes to Six Towers when the sun goes down. [Verse 2, more playful, more dangerous] Vampires with the old deep ache, Buy from me for hunger’s sake, Blue lips shaking, velvet teeth, They pay real nice to drink beneath. Spark-tinker rats in cellar glow, Need demon blood to make things go, Engines cough and copper sing, They buy my fire to feed the spring. Underworld doctors, sleeves rolled high, Need fresh red truth when patients die, Transfusions, surgeries, midnight thread— Half the damned stay breathing on what I shed. [Pre-Chorus, faster, grinning] Highborn freaks and dockside dogs, Masked priests hiding under fog, All of them come, all of them buy— Everyone bleeds, mi friend, that is why. [Chorus, stronger] One more bottle, one more coin, Come, mi friend, cross the line, Leave a little more silver here, Feed your craft, your thirst, your fear. One more bottle, one more drop, I got what your morals stop, And every sinner in this town Comes to Six Towers when the sun goes down. [Bridge, stripped back, smoky, confessional] Ah, but listen... here is tragedy. Money come fast... money go faster. Dice roll, dogs run, fighters swing, And I... I am cursed with love for losing things. Boxing rings, dog races, cards in smoke, Ladies in the mud while the drunk men choke, I win enough to dream, lose enough to crawl, So buy a little more, mis amores—buy it all. [Breakdown, half-spoken, grinning, desperate underneath] Come on now... You don’t need only one vial. Take two. Take three. You know your machine will drink more. You know your patient will bleed more. You know your master wants stronger. And me? I got debts, cariño. Terrible, beautiful debts. [Verse 3, darker, fuller] Same old hunger in every face, Only different clothes, different grace, One wants holiness, one wants hell, One wants youth they cannot sell. I do not judge, I only pour, Measure the red and close the drawer, From horned blood down to altar wine, Everybody pays to cross the line. And if my pockets never stay full, Well... that is life, and life is cruel, So let the gamblers curse my name— Tomorrow night I’ll bet again. [Final Chorus, huge, theatrical] One more bottle, one more coin, Come, mi friend, cross the line, Leave a little more silver here, Feed your craft, your thirst, your fear. One more bottle, one more sin, I let the whole black market in, And every creature in this town Comes to Six Towers when the sun goes down. One more bottle, don’t say no, Everybody’s got a need to show, Vampire, doctor, priest or thief— I sell them all their sweet relief. [Outro, low, smiling, dangerous] So... what will it be? Holy? Unholy? Fresh? Rare? Expensive? Ah. Now you are speaking my language.
