The dead they walk with shuffling feet,
In the streets they wait to eat,
To them I smell like a tasty snack,
My brains to them are akin to crack,
They moan ,they groan, they drool, they bite,
My delicate flesh a zombie delight,
In the darkness I do creep,
To find supplies like food to eat,
Surviving like a gutter rat,
Them and me and a baseball bat,
I hear them coming I need to run,
But not before I have some fun,
And there one stands…
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