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