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
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