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