"Schlong Obsessed Zombified Beings"

stalked, harrassed, made by way of threat,
the force of tremors as such you've never met,
they grab at flesh, at soft innerds, hard rock,
the blood engorged into vessel with which you dock.

cradle at the land of cavity, the realm of sweet,
the hiding place of mystery, the zone so neat.
in drones of clones they grab at it, the mast,
they tear it apart with vigor, as if you'd last.

Simple eaters of skin, no, simple in mind, not goal,
step up do they for all held dear, like sexual soul,
without tool you less, without pole you no more,
no more to your glands, no more sit thee so sore.

For walking bags of blue, of crimson, of black tight grab,
tight latch on, yank fast, and pull off in blood bath,
mingled with your screams of shock, of demise of manhood,
for now between legs sits no more hound, not that there should.

maybe you were born to be non, maybe born to be lacking pipe?
maybe you were made defective with lizard, your vein a large stripe?
maybe you don't deserve to be of man, more of none, an observer?
maybe you just are unlucky, unwelcomed, unknown, or plain loser?

who knows...who cares, you just better run my friend, run quick,
for without speed, much haste, zombies cometh to dispatch your ....,
they crave the sweet meat, they crave the mass, the taste of doom,
your fault for being an outie, maybe wearing fruit of the loom.

so when you see the packs of same faced bandits munching down dogs,
run for the hills, close your legs, and affix your feet to ground,
get yourself moving opposite in way, faster than their hunger deep,
for if they catch you lad, grab a seat, it's over, you sleep.