[Intro] They came in before the sun, coffee-fueled and second-ticked, a broken stone, overworked like zombies, they marched into the dawn. [Verse 1] Badge still warm, they drift through the hallway door, eyelids in a fight with the buzz they wore. Stapler, screensaver, stale fries in a bag, running on a panic they can’t quite bag. [Verse 2] Past midnight they’re bent in the breakroom glow, phones still chirping while their shoulders go slow. No coffin keeps them, no pillow makes a case, the deadline drags them back to the same hard place. [Prechorus] A zombie apocalypse of the ones you love, the tired and the dead, play with work and you might end up like them. [Chorus] Surprise, now you’re dead, you don’t get to rest, not in the right way, now look at you, revived beneath the endless skies of your hours, the newborn in your arms, remember, you aren’t a,... zom--bie. [Bridge] Clock in, clock out, the zombie learns to breathe, overworked and restless, too dead to believe. [Verse 3] They hit the morning with twelve missed calls, cold coffee rings on the conference walls. Name tag bent, lunch untouched, eyes gone dim, still the shift rolls on and pulls them in. [Bridge] Clock in, clock out, the zombie learns to breathe, overworked and restless, too dead to believe. [Verse 4] They grin at the clock when it chews through the night, red-eyed, shirt wrinkled, saying, “I’m all right.” The hours stack up in a bent metal tray, and every extra minute gets filed away. [Verse 5] Now the coffee’s a potion, the hallway’s a tomb, everyone’s a shadow in the office room. They shuffle through the burnout, pale and overused, the working dead keep marching, tired and abused. [Chorus] Surprise, now you’re dead, you don’t get to rest, not in the right way, now look at you, revived beneath the endless skies of your hours, the newborn in your arms, remember, you’re an overworked,,.. zombie. [Verse 6] So if you hear them rattling after closing time, that’s the sound of overtime refusing to unwind. No grave can hold them, no hush can make them stay, just another rented box that sends them back by day. [Prechorus] A zombie apocalypse of the ones you love, the tired and the dead, [Build up] Zombie, zombie, clock in, clock out, you’re walking through the hours.... [Chorus] Surprise, now you’re dead, you don’t get to rest, not in the right way, now look at you, revived beneath the endless skies of your hours, the newborn in your arms, remember, you’re an overworked... zom-bie. [Bridge] In the cubicle crypt they shuffle side by side, with hollowed-out ambition and a thousand tasks to hide. The badge still scans, the spine still bends, but every unpaid minute is where the living ends. [Verse 7] They jump at the phone like it’s wired to a bruise, moving through the spreadsheets with no daylight to lose. Eyes on nowhere, fingers on autopilot, every extra minute just makes the trench more solid. [Verse 8] The bonus is a candle, the promotion is a crumb, and all that’s left to feed them is the drumbeat of the numb. They rise because they have to, not because they’re feeling brave. [Chorus] They call you back before the sun, badge in your hand, and you’re already done. Eyes on the clock, but the clock won’t care, you keep on moving like you’ve got air. No rest, no quit, just another round, paper cuts and caffeine, feet on the ground. If they ask what you are, say it plain: you’re still here, still dragging through the day. [Interlude] Oh, the hours keep calling, oh, the bodies keep falling, oh, the dead stay employed. [Outro] So turn the lights down slowly when the workday meets the night, for the zombie in the mirror might be you by morning light. No grave can hold that burden, no clock can make you stay, you’re just an overworked zombie, walking through the day.
