Stumble in somnambulance 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 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