Song of the game
Letter
There’s a zombie on your lawn There’s a zombie on your lawnThere’s a zombie on your lawnWe don’t want zombies on the lawn
I know your type: tall, dark, and dead You want to bite all the petals off of my head And then eat the brains of the one who planted me here
I’m just a sunflower but see me power an entire infantry You like the taste of brains we don’t like zombies
I used to play football Road cones protect my head I have a screen-door shield We are the undead
Maybe it’s time to reevaluate I know you have a lot of food on your plate Brains are quite rich in cholesterol
You’re dead so it doesn’t matter, Instead we’ll use this solar power to make a lawn defense at any hour
I like the tricycle There’s butter on my head
I’m gonna eat your brains
We are the undead
There’s a zombie on your lawn There’s a zombie on your lawn There’s a zombie on your lawn We don’t want zombies on the lawn
