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