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A dark figure shuffles along the bay
A dark weak figure, who`s returned from the grave
His scent and appearance are the plauge of decay
Guts filled with endless hunger, human flesh does he crave

His first victim is found with a bite to the arm
From this first wound the disease begins flowing
This horrendous disease is what builds up his "charm"
The disease hits the brain, and the heart begins slowing

The virus has won, another soul dies
Nothing is heard over the loved one`s weeps
But as it`s fated, the dead will rise
And devour the humans until no more will it creep

Cornered by the undead you pull out your rifle, and open fire
But unless it`s a headsot you`re just wasting ammo
You turn and flee, but are grabbed and eaten entire
The undead see all, even when hidden by camo

With horrible moans, the undead trudge on
As the plauge spreads throughout the world
The virus moves on, and more zombies are spawned
The true danger of this virus unfurled

The "war" rages on, but the humans are losing
An ocean of zombies as far as the eye can see
With this last remark we were foolish in choosing,
To lose the last war, the war against the zombie.