Round here

Step out the front door like a ghost
into the fog where no one notices
the contrast of white on white

And in between the moon and you
the angels get a better view
of the crumling difference between wrong and right

I walk in the air between the rain,
trough myself and back again.
Where? I don´t know

Maria says she´s dying
Trough the door, I hear her crying
Why? I don´t know

Round here we always stand up straight
Round here something radiates.

Maria came from Nashville with a suitcase in her hand
She said she´d like to meet a boy who looks like Elvis
She walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land.........