Zombies for Rock Band!

I lay me down to bed
Thinking how to make Stormblade dead.
A grenade at his feet,
While he screems "RUN! DON'T CROUCH!"
Only to realize, to little, too late
That the grenade was fake.

Yet run he did, all layers a'wabling,
Straight into the razor wire,
I stretched in his path.

*SPLOIK* was the sound
that his head made,
When first it bounced on the ground.

*SPLIT* *SPLAT* his gibering mass
fell all a kimbo
Not at all like rag doll physics.

Yay! I cheared! Stormblade is dead!
Again!

Not a tear was shed,
not even from Blackwalt.
We had a lan party to celebrate,
Yet no one showed up.
"More important things to do, have I"
They all said,
"Than celebrate what's his name final demise".

But alas, my joy was to end,
For 28 days later,
a groan from the grave.
A hand pushed out of the earth,
and clawed it's way out.
It was he, back from the dead.
Zomblade, the putressent corps,
has come back to haunt me anew.

Slowly he shambled towards me,
Arms fully outstretched.
I could see some remnants
of the man he was,
For as he got closer,
he started to speak.

In a slow drawl,
barely comprehensible
He uttered word, over and over
At first I thought "BRAINS!"
And started to quiver.
What would happen to the world,
should my soaring intelect
be devouwered by such as he?

As he drew close,
I could finally hear.
All was not lost,
I would be spared.
For the word that he mumbled
was not brain at all.
It was, as in his life, "BEER!"