Zombies

When the outbreak started

I locked myself away

Told my friends not to call me

I’ll stay at home and play

All the games on my Xbox

And watch all my DVDs

And read all the books I haven’t read yet

And smoke all that’s left of my weed

A scratch at the door, a groaning sound

Some kind of smell like rotting meat

The dead are rising up from the ground

And pickling in the summer’s heat

But I don’t care, I’m still in my chair

I’m almost level fifty-two

And when they break through the door

To eat me, one of them looks like you

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