If resident evil taught me anything,
It's that tourniquets stop the bleeding,
But herbs do all the healing.
Though it doesn't stop the feelings.
Everyone's paranoid, and always scheming,
As if zombies are out creeping,
Around corners and through ceilings.
Strategically placing pawns,
Laying bait, and setting traps
Until you're left feeling numb,
To the world and all its crap.
They'll beat you when you're down,
Or even if you're in the clouds,
And once you're on the ground,
Gravity slowly ***** you in,
Until you're breathing dirt,
And you're soiled by your sin.
Wishing for a sign,
To help you clear your mind,
Because you realized, it kind of tickles when you hurt,
And you'd believe all the lies, if it helped you to survive.

So where the zombies at, and can I bring my gat?
'Cause my finger has been itching, though all I do is scratch.
Revealing skin tissue, that would rather hug a trigger,
My strength isn't the issue, only worrying about ammo misuse,
And if it's you, I figure, a knife can end it quicker.
Straight to the stem, that held your mind in.

My beautiful rotting barbie,
I'll worship you,
Like that Jesus zombie.

-SLuR