Lyrics
In a perfect world you could
In an ideal world, it would be possible
Make some kind of sense
To make some form of logical understanding
Of the catastrophe that’s
Of the disastrous event that is
Happening over the fence
Unfolding on the other side of the fence
The bodies look like yours
The deceased bodies resemble yours
But their eyes are impure
But their gaze is tainted
And their skin is turning grey
And their skin is changing color to gray
The flyboy leaves tonight joined
The pilot departs this evening, having
After Peter sets the people of 107 free
United with Peter, liberating the people of unit 107
When there’s no more room in hell
When there is no more space in the underworld
Re-animate the cold remains
Revive the lifeless remains
And they stagger to the marketplace
And they stumble towards the market square
He got bit last week the
He was bitten last week, and now
Infection is getting bad
The infection is worsening
He told Peter he don’t wanna
He informed Peter of his reluctance
Be walking around like that
To roam in that deteriorated state
The shopping center is a trap
The commercial complex is a snare
The undead fight over the
The undead engage in conflict over
Bloody scraps
The gruesome remnants
I think one bit me…
I suspect I have been infected...
And there’s no more room in hell
And there is no more space in the underworld
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