Warfare - Plague of the Zombies

A Gilling masterpiece... Hammer 1966,
A gothic Cornish town... Sir James is in a fix.
The coffins, they erupt, the graves are torn apart.
A deadly Voodoo cult is ripping out your heart.

You dream on, the Zombies they will creep,
Rising from their graves, from Voodoo they've been made.

You're screaming out,
in this your sleep.
There's no way out,
from this damned dream.

Enshrouded in thick fog,
So sinister the graves,
But the mines must carry on, and on,
With profit to be made,
The evil Carson squire
With replicas of death,
The damned zombies form this plague,
They're gonna take away your breath.