The dead are walking again.
You silently sneak through the packs,
Holding your weapon at ready.
They come after your brain.
You work to pick up your slack.
When you kill, you must stay steady.
Stay with your squad,
Always be prepared.
The Apocalypse is here.
Pray to your God
And be ready for Hell.
The dead are near.
Hope, love, and trust are now a distant memory.
This New World has erased them.
Be careful—
If you aren't, all you'll be is a memory; a body coated in dust