Beth, shoot the gun
Beth, shoot the gun
Beth, shoot the gun
Beth, shoot the gun
The gun
The gun
The gun
The gun
The gun
The gun
Bill lay next to a pile of Friday clothes
And a television set on the floor
Beth kneeled down and caressed his pallid face
She did not leave him a kiss
No, she went for the door with haste
Looking back at Bill only once
As she locked the door behind her
She looked at the name on the door
She made a mental note whereby
She paired the phonetics of Reid with misery
And she ran
In the direction of the knoll
Offsetting the suburb's grocery stores
With nothing to show for but mounds of salt
As the sun was pressing
It was clear to her, too
Beth
Valentine
Would be her name from then on
A kind-hearted girl
Saccharine knuckles
Coagulated blood