Her ears omit the noise from a nearby airstrip
Her mind floats beyond the snapper boats
Betty lonely, just talks to her grand baby
Her heart lives over the drawbridge
Betty lonely, she will always think in Spanish
Her maidenhood was lost beneath the Spanish moss
But her words stick like a flounder gig
At a point through the sliding glass door
'Cause everybody else she blots them out
Betty lonely, her green eyes are roughly staring
Her brain is wet like a throw net
Though I know her Spanish black hair, it will start to fade
She sunk her past out in the surrounding salt flats