deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Dead Are Walking
The dead are walking
flesh hanging,
bones showing,
rotting before your eyes.
The dead are walking
towards you,
mouth open,
showing yellow, decaying teeth,
moaning so loud it's the only sound you hear.
The dead are walking.
Can't you tell
they are hungry
for your very human flesh?
They are just begging for a nip
maybe a bite or two...
Can't you hear
their suffering?
The moaning will tell you...
Can't you tell
you are going to die?
The Reaper is right in your face...
Can't you tell
the dead are walking?
Watch them shuffle...
Now you do the same...
Hear them moan...
Your doing the same can't you see that?
Can't you tell
the dead are walking
and
you are too?
flesh hanging,
bones showing,
rotting before your eyes.
The dead are walking
towards you,
mouth open,
showing yellow, decaying teeth,
moaning so loud it's the only sound you hear.
The dead are walking.
Can't you tell
they are hungry
for your very human flesh?
They are just begging for a nip
maybe a bite or two...
Can't you hear
their suffering?
The moaning will tell you...
Can't you tell
you are going to die?
The Reaper is right in your face...
Can't you tell
the dead are walking?
Watch them shuffle...
Now you do the same...
Hear them moan...
Your doing the same can't you see that?
Can't you tell
the dead are walking
and
you are too?
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