| There’s a deadly gas in the air tonight
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| Oh yeah, the dead are putting up a fight
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| On a rapage through Louisville, Kentucky
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| Go ahead punk, do you feel lucky?
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| These dead are mean, rude and hungry
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| Back from the grave and ready to party
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| This time you cannot kill what’s already dead
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| Run for your life babe, hold on to your head
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| Hate your guts, love your brain
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| To them your brain equals novocain
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| Hate your guts, love your brain
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| Zombifaction, here comes the pain
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| Hate your guts
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| It’s not the night or dawn or even the day
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| No way, these fucks are here to stay
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| And if you shoot them right between the eyes
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| That’s when you’re in for the biggest surprise
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| Rotten to the core but they know what they need
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| Zombie chow or fallout, your end is guaranteed
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| They dig you like the maggots diggin' the grave
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| The grey and white matter is what they crave
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| Hate your guts, love your brain
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| To them your brain equals novocain
|
| Hate your guts, love your brain
|
| Zombifaction, here comes the pain
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| Tar-Man and his smelly friends
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| They have a hunger and they have the speed
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| Brainless that is how it ends
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| 'Cause on your warm brain they will feed
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| Send more paramedics please
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| Your end will come fast if you are lucky
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| And send more cops 'cause there’s something
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| Rotting running around in the state of Kentucky
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| Hate your guts, love your brain
|
| To them your brain equals novocain
|
| Hate your guts, love your brain
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| Zombifaction, here comes the pain |