You know its kinda hard just to get along today

Came down with a condition, so I came up from the grave

I may not have a pulse, and I may not have breath

So emaciated like a man on crystal meth

You discriminate because we abberate

But our numbers now are rising as undead accumulate

You must acquiesce to our zombiness

And feed us brains! And feed us brains!

The living days are through, you numbers are too few

Meanwhile, we're munching on medullas and perhaps a pons or two

So drop your barricade and join our escapade

Hey, hey, dead's the new alive!

Oh my God, a zombie! Oh crap! Oh, crap!

Oh my God, a zombie! Oh crap! Oh, crap!

Oh my God, a zombie! Oh crap! Oh, crap!

And all the ghouls say I'm pretty spry for a dead guy

*facepalm*

Where's the funny?