The boomer exploded, leaving the survivors blinded by its gooey love. False fear filled them as they heard them coming. The four stars rushing towards their fans, the hoard as they called them. It was used to imply that they were inhuman, that they had no feelings.
It hurts them, and it's not just the guns. In fact, words can really hurt. Words; and their hunger, their hunger for love. They gave love left and right, up and down, from the front and the behind. It's all just a part of their state of mind.
They've always said, give and you will receive. Well, sadly enough they gave love and received hate. It traps them in a constant state of depression, hands always hanging down. There's nowhere to run, but towards them. The four stars going from place to place, the only thing to do is to follow, follow what they used to be. Love what they used to be, but in return they receive hate. It always ends in hate, never a happy ending.
The four stars always looking for an escape, the hoard is after them, is what they'd say. Running away, trying to escape the unwanted love. Fire away, molotovs spreading the hate, burning all who pass. Then one of the stars gets lassoed, by the lasso of love. Another gets pinned down, body being charged with love. The third gets hunted down, and receives a furry of hugs. The fourth however, ran away to a place not so far away. A house where it would be safe to stay. It was there he found himself, surrounded by himself. They were moaning, so was he. They clawed at the doors, and he clawed back. It wasn't safe to leave, after all they were out there. He was out there. They kill people, just as people kill them. Zombies were people too, they truly understand the concept of tough love.