Hunting Humans - Misfits

Upon this threshold of disaster

The birth of the eleventh plague

The fires burn at night, I begin to doubt the smell of burning flesh

Will ever fade away

The touch of death is all around us A thousand corpses block our way

A man-made germ makes almost everyone commit suicide

Just to rise and eat their dead

Night of the living Dead…

We’re hunting humans

We’re hunting humans

We’re hunting humans

It’s killing time every day

I can’t control this eerie feeling

An evil screaming in my head

I don’t I’ll last the night

There is no cure

For this genocide

Or resurrection of the dead

Night of the living Dead…

We’re hunting humans…