Could it be the wind?

 
He knocked on my door.
He knocked on my door!

He was at my door.

They shot down seagulls.
"Population Control"
they said.

I wanted to see you, he told me.
“I wanted to hear from you!”
He told me again.

He hit me in the face.
I slammed the door on his face!

He made a sad face...
He made a bad face...

The blood contrasted
with the black shadows in the eyes.

They shot him at my door.

“Out of control!”
they said.

PAR