The Sons of 115

Once were we normal an walked amongst the souls of yesterday
then we were dead and rotting in the ground
thanks to 115 we walk again making a variety of sound
me and my brothers we roam as a horde, your corpse is made for being in are fray
our flaming pets are now demons who are rotting with decay
the demented thief is stealing your guns and running all around
the cosmic silverback and his space monkeys are the kings of this town
and that George Romero is new and ready to make you pay
But those survivors are comming with there shiny guns in hand
stop us from stealing there weapons and perks
they even made George and that ape look like soft squishy dough
were all that's left, but lets face it were sort of bland
darn they killed my buddies what a bunch of jerks
oh look a monkey it's so cool it's caught my attention got to go.