The Seagulls are Coming
One morning a shadow will creep in from the ocean / Bringing a sense of doom and the notion / That we can hear screaming off in the distance / That isn’t quite human, but shrill and insistent. / Some of us climb to the rooftops to see / What the cause of this strange atmosphere could be. / There on the horizon and headed this way / Is a swarm that could rival a biblical plague. / Whoa, the seagulls are coming. / Woe to us all, the seagulls come. / They fed on our garbage, our hotdogs and fries / And their appetites grew to a monstrous size. / Now in squadrons of thousands they take to the skies / With a murderous gleam in their pale yellow eyes. / Our cities turn into their personal landfills, / Their copious droppings bring cars to a standstill. / They learn how to kill us with frozen fried chicken parts / Dropped on our heads, then we’re easily picked apart. / We bomb them and poison them, try to find shelter. / The army trucks in weapons grade alka-seltzer. / But we can’t bring the flock down, we don’t even dent it. / Their numbers keep growing and their hunger is endless. / When it’s all over, they’ll drift back to sea. / For the first time in thousands of years there will be / A primeval silence that covers the earth / As the Wal-Marts and highways return to the dirt.