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Yeah, I wrote this one. Not quite as.... nice as Great Gulf Wind, but it's what I do.

TEMPORARY DEATH speculation

The grave is a prison
And none hold the key
Death keeps all things
Of mans history.
But think for a while
If the dead found a file
And sawed through their chains and were free

They’d walk with the living
With brains rotted and gone
And they’d feel a great hunger
To fill a great maw
The emptiness they’d feel inside
Quenched not by food but human lives
Would drive them on to kill and eat
Their former kin, now tasty meat
Like animals, they’d hunt us down
In the woods, and plains and towns
Some men would take up arms to fight
While other ones would flee in fright
It would not matter, fight or flee
The dead are the undying enemy
They’d feel no pain from gun or blade
Nor any tool that man has made
Like tin soldiers on they’d go
Enduring rain and wind and snow
As living fell more dead would rise
To aide their kind in mans demise
Devouring all things in their sight
A plague of wrath sent down to smite
The sinful will then plead redemption
So their lives would be exemption
To the holy slaughterhouse they’d flee
And there they’d fall down to one knee
To atone for sins they’d pray in vain
To try to stave off being slain
The dead won’t care they eat all men
Sinners, pastors, governments
They’d be just meat to the undead horde
Another meal, not saint or lord
Compassion, mercy, things of life
Are lost on those who feed on strife
With eyes of cats they’d find us all
Approaching fast, the moaning wall
A sound from Satan’s company
Would lead the undead symphony
Like the old on deathbed, torn by pain
The dead will speak though voices slain
With wails and screams humans would sing
The dead will groan at everything
Mindless, friendless on they’d march
And in pain man’s back would arch
Like Judgment Day the lights would fade
And so mankind would be unmade
All would be devoured fast
The dead are godlike, meant to last
The kings and queens would send their men
To try to make the undead bend
And meet respective Waterloos
Amid the devils jeers and boo’s
And so the civil life would break
And survivors laugh at laws and take
Things once of value now obsolete
These men would be a dead things treat
The dead would wander round the world
An aimless shell, not boy or girl
With no love in their heart nor thought in their head
All men would fear the walking dead