Transcription: It's about the front door like a ghost into a fog Where no one notices the contrast of white on my And in between the moon and you Angels get a better view of the crumbling difference between wrong and right I walk in the air between the rain through myself and back again where I don't know Maria says she's dying through the door I hear her crying why I don't know Around here we always stand up straight Around here something radiates Maria came from Nashville with a suitcase in her hand She likes to meet a boy who looks like Elvis And she walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land ...
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