Counting Crows - 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 crumbling difference between wrong and right
I walk in the air between the rain through myself and back again
Where? I dont know
Maria says shes dying through the door I hear her crying
Why? I dont know
Round here we always stand up straight
Round here something radiates
Maria came from nashville with a suitcase in her hand ...