As a theoretical engineering exercise
I was tasked to design a zombie killing device
Might as well be a resurrection machine
Wrong tool for the right problem, if you know what I mean
A zombie apocalypse is upon us
Their ignorance is simply beyond us
As they go to great pains
To shed our brains
With the karma the bought on TV
Or how much they love their SUV
Relentlessly jawing at your ear
With breath of smoke and stale beer
About that thing they saw in the cinema
Eyes rolled back like they’re a cow getting an enema
Their delusion of reference
Is a delusion in the value of reverence
I hit ’em with the HDT
No, I didn’t drop the V
It’s not a typo
but H D Thoureau
Even with his jaw all clenched up
I can hear him from the grave yelling, “Wake Up!”
So to avoid the attempted cranial depredation
I simply leave the buggers to their quiet desperation
Tags: Stephen Handlin