Night of the Living Dead

Stumble in somnambulance

Pre-dawn corpses come to life

Armies of the dead surviving

Armies of the hungry ones

Only ones, lonely ones

Ripped up like shredded-wheat

Only ones, lonely ones

Be a sort of human picnic

This ain't no love-in

This ain't no happening

This ain't no feeling in my arm

You think you're a zombie, you think it's a scene

From some monster magazine, well

Open your eyes too late

This ain't no fantasy, boy

This ain't no love-in

This ain't no happening

This ain't no feeling in my arm