Like a Zombie, we travel with our soul,
This soul, to a mortal eye would seem foul.
And at night as we go to sleep,
Our body finds a way to the depths so deep.
And if we are to sleep for ever,
The mind cannot escape, never.
But in our graves we may live once more,
Although our mortal bodies may feel sore.
The mind will always be free to roam,
And the body will find it's own dome.
But if we are not to decay in these,
Then we will transform into Zombies.
This soul, to a mortal eye would seem foul.
And at night as we go to sleep,
Our body finds a way to the depths so deep.
And if we are to sleep for ever,
The mind cannot escape, never.
But in our graves we may live once more,
Although our mortal bodies may feel sore.
The mind will always be free to roam,
And the body will find it's own dome.
But if we are not to decay in these,
Then we will transform into Zombies.