Bonaparte's Retreat

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 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 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 Just like she's walking on a wire in the circus She parks her car outside of my house Takes her clothes off Says she's close to understanding Jesus She...