Diskit

Z-Day

Z-day we must surge your brain
With a little scalpel so you feel the pain
With an old saw we open your skull
Blood is dripping your eyes full
Now it's your time, it's your turn
A problem with your hair so we must burn
Every hair from your head
Next your notice is you're dead
So now your rising from the dead
Looking in the mirror a deformed head
In subconscious, you hear the voice
Programmed to kill, your only choice
Destroy all living, create a hell
Killing feels good, you're feeling well
Burn the churches, your first order yet