Post-Mischief Night Verse Appreciation

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