Whoa oh oh oh

Whoa oh

Whoa oh


Stumble in somnambulance so

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


Whoa

Whoa oh

Whoa oh

Whoa oh


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

From some monster magazine

Well, open your eyes [now/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


Whoa

Whoa oh

Whoa oh

Whoa oh

Whoa oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh