The Zombies Don't Care (Words and Music by Evan Field)
rock
zombies
Story behind the song
They’re coming to get you, Barbara.
Lyrics
The zombies don’t care about your family, they don’t care about your future grandsons.
The zombies only care about gorging themselves, and there’s zombie work to be done.
The zombies don’t care what you occupy, an underpass, a tent, or a tree.
The zombies are going to find us anyway, start taking bites out of you and of me, well..
Attack the zombies; gird a tree for a grub.
Hack the zombies; gnaw you down to the nub.
Whack the zombies; born again from above.
Stack the zombies; bite the head off a dove
The zombies don’t care if you’ve been stabbed with a trowel, or if you fry in a gas pump fire.
Dead or alive if you’ve got something take to acquire the zombie desire.
The zombies don’t care about the shrimp in the gulf, they don’t care about no anouseeds
Mother Earth can’t hide, nature’s pride from that genetically modified creep, well…
Attack the zombies; gird a tree for a grub.
Hack the zombies; gnaw you down to the nub.
Whack the zombies; born again from above.
Stack the zombies; bite the head off a dove
Shoot em in the head, beat and burn em they’re dead, yeah…
They’re all messed up.
They’re coming to get you. They’re coming to get you, Barbara. They’re coming to get you.
The zombies don’t care about your living; they don’t care about your dick head boss.
The zombies don’t care if you’ve been pepper sprayed; it’s just a horny red devil’s hot sauce.
The zombies take the butter and honey, as they steal our daily bread.
Can’t forgive the sins, of the evil undead.
Attack the zombies; gird a tree for a grub.
Hack the zombies; gnaw you down to the nub.
Whack the zombies; born again from above.
Stack the zombies; bite the head off a dove
Shoot em in the head, beat and burn em they’re dead, yeah…
They’re all messed up.