Song: Ode to High Heels.
I think there has to be a law
That says the outbreak always starts
When you declare it's time for bed
And take off all your clothes.
My peignoir has one fatal flaw --
It barely hides the tender parts.
I'm like a billboard for the dead:
A snack in lace and bows.
My boyfriend, he's got jeans and more,
He's wearing shoes without high heels;
I have to say, this isn't fair,
And I don't think it's right.
We've all been drenched in blood and gore,
And though a shower sure appeals,
If I should stop to wash my hair,
I won't survive the night.
Zombies sure must have a rotten sense of humor,
Or else they're undead perverts, one and all.
They sure do like to chase half-naked women through the twilight --
Tack on high heels, and those bastards have a ball.
I'm half-alive and barely draped
In tatters that pretend to be
The secret that Victoria's
Been keeping close to hand.
I don't quite know how we escaped;
We didn't do it easily.
Subscribers of 'Fangoria'
Might better understand.
Those undead bastards better run,
I've coped with way too much tonight,
And horror movies tell us
Lingerie can teach kung-fu.
Lacy undies help you shoot a gun,
And high heels mean that you can fight;
There's nothing that a corset plus
Some fishnets doesn't do!
Zombies sure must have a rotten sense of humor,
Or else they're undead perverts, one and all.
They sure do like to chase half-naked women through the twilight --
Tack on high heels, and those bastards have a ball.
I don't want to be the victim,
I don't want to die in lace,
So I guess it's time to turn around,
And re-invent the chase!
So just hand me that chainsaw,
And some lip gloss, if you would;
They'll never know what hit 'em,
And I don't think that I care.
It's horror movie martial law:
Half-naked girls are tools for good.
Hey, lover boys, come get some!
...should have never touched my hair.
(Originally written as an Iron Poet entry for spiritdance.)
That says the outbreak always starts
When you declare it's time for bed
And take off all your clothes.
My peignoir has one fatal flaw --
It barely hides the tender parts.
I'm like a billboard for the dead:
A snack in lace and bows.
My boyfriend, he's got jeans and more,
He's wearing shoes without high heels;
I have to say, this isn't fair,
And I don't think it's right.
We've all been drenched in blood and gore,
And though a shower sure appeals,
If I should stop to wash my hair,
I won't survive the night.
Zombies sure must have a rotten sense of humor,
Or else they're undead perverts, one and all.
They sure do like to chase half-naked women through the twilight --
Tack on high heels, and those bastards have a ball.
I'm half-alive and barely draped
In tatters that pretend to be
The secret that Victoria's
Been keeping close to hand.
I don't quite know how we escaped;
We didn't do it easily.
Subscribers of 'Fangoria'
Might better understand.
Those undead bastards better run,
I've coped with way too much tonight,
And horror movies tell us
Lingerie can teach kung-fu.
Lacy undies help you shoot a gun,
And high heels mean that you can fight;
There's nothing that a corset plus
Some fishnets doesn't do!
Zombies sure must have a rotten sense of humor,
Or else they're undead perverts, one and all.
They sure do like to chase half-naked women through the twilight --
Tack on high heels, and those bastards have a ball.
I don't want to be the victim,
I don't want to die in lace,
So I guess it's time to turn around,
And re-invent the chase!
So just hand me that chainsaw,
And some lip gloss, if you would;
They'll never know what hit 'em,
And I don't think that I care.
It's horror movie martial law:
Half-naked girls are tools for good.
Hey, lover boys, come get some!
...should have never touched my hair.
(Originally written as an Iron Poet entry for spiritdance.)