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Whoa oh oh oh Whoa oh Whoa oh

Stumble in some ambulance 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

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 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