Apocalyptic Sadistics

Two thousand and fourteen.
I remember.
Two thousand men fell ill.
I remember.
Days of horror, days of pain.
I remember.
Days when blood mixed with rain.
We remember.

When it all started, we were all over,
planning our lives, making our clover.

Then the plague came, the dreaded plague.
The plague of the damned, the walking dead.

The day it hit us, was sunday, may 21st,
passionate in bed, conceiving our first.

Disturbed by knocking on the door, we rose,
Opened up, only to be attacked with a fire hose.

Nice neighbour, suddenly violent attacking,
World turned upside down in a matter of minutes.

Time passed,
us tasked.

The burden,
the hurting.

We fought our way through the first hoarde,
We enjoyed our sadistic pleasure, never bored.
Two misfits, now our mothers only hope.
Two lovers, now with death had to cope.

We killed them all, we slayed all the living dead.
We murdered our families, all our friends are dead.

Grenades we threw into their lairs,
Shotgun proof, as we killed in pairs.

Murder was a sweet, sweet game for us.
Now we're lost, the urge got to us.

Still living, not yet joined the dead,
but hungry all the same, to deal death.

The zombie killer couple, last lovers standing.
The last man and woman, last lovers panting.

Zombie brains spill, as we fuck among corpses.
Evil lovers spill, our love juices over our losses.