Twas the night after the reanimation of the dead,
And all through the graveyard corpses were crawling from their beds.
Weapons were lined along the room,
Waiting to make a zombie go boom.

Dead relatives and historical figures limp past.
Always coming slow, never fast.
Some barely flesh, others just beginning to rot.
Remembering who they were they know not.

They are all looking for brains,
Luckily our scents are covered by rain.
All of us living make camp in an abandoned building,
Standing at the ready with hands twitching.

Half of us stood watch while the others slept.
Dreams of freedom we kept.
I signal to my fellow survivors,
There down below was a dead moonshiner.

It saw us, beginning to moan and groan,
The first guard aims the gun I loan.
The shot rang true,
But we were not yet through…