Back from the grave, down to the pub
They always, [bad word] back
They crave for a brew to wash down your brains
An eight percent grey matter sludge

Made from beer and brains
Doubles of mortal remains
Drain the dregs
Zombies will empty the kegs

They eat the living but drink their tins
Fermenting in the kegs the army kept them in
Watch your beers, the zombies are about
They're being touchy-feely and staring at your brain

Bent for the rent for another pint of that [bad word] 
They [bad word] all over the offy floor
So I sold my soul for a tray of terror tins
graveyard booze-up tonight

Wake up at six, [bad word] by beer cancer
Time for a puke out my [bad word] (and a good cry)
Zombie party wrecked my flat
I'll [bad word] in the graveyard tonight