Whoa oh oh oh 
 Whoa oh
 Whoa oh 

 Stumble in somnambulance so 
 Pre-dawn [bad word] to life
 Armies of the dead surviving 
 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

 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 

 Whoa oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-OH!