Stumble in somnambulance so
Pre-dawn corpses come to life
Armies of the dead survive
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
