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