Night of the Living Dead

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 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