The Bedside Table

On the bedside table
Lies a gun
And among
Other things
Lies a letter
And it reads
My love, my dear
I love you
But I just can't
Stand the pain
So I'm leaving here
Tomorrow
Don't call my name
Don't call my name

The folded letter
Falls to the floor
And once more
Her trembling hands
Dry the teardrops
And she sees
A photograph
Of a memory
On the bedside table
Then throws the picture
At the wall
What more to gain
From a broken frame

The dusty clock
Chimes the hour
She holds the flower
That he gave her just today
And it reads
Just like a storybook
As she cries
And lifts the gun
So unsure
The telephone rings
Could that be him
Could that be him
Could that be him
Could that be him

And it's just like
A storybook
As she cries
And lifts the gun
So unsure
The telephone rings
Could that be him
(Could that be him)
Could that be him
(Could that be him)

(Could that be him)
(Could that be him)
(Could that be him)

Don't call my name
Don't call my name
Don't call my name
Don't call my name
Don't call my name
Don't call my name

On the bedside table
Lies a gun
(Could that be him)

On the bedside table
Lies a gun
(Could that be him)

On the bedside table
Lies a gun