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dressed up in silk slips,
high heels and mink stoles
You swivel your hips
as I work the controls
No blood ever drips
when I widen your holes

zombie boy...

You seem to have died
of some form of the pox
They left you inside
your tiny black box
I heard when you cried
and I answered your knocks
Let's make you a bride
with another two cocks

You look pretty pure
for so long in the ground
You smell like a sewer
but you don't make a sound
I feed you ordure
to keep Poopsie spellbound
I like to be sure
you'll be sticking around

zombie boy...