| There’s a sweated-through shirt thrown over a chair
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| An old photo of Anna Magnani in her underwear
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| There’s an old dog barking at a brand new moon
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| And a sign in every window sayin' «Be Back Soon»
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| But where is Maria?
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| There’s a young fellow rockin' in a thump thump car
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| And he’s smug as a commentator on NPR
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| And our foolish government tries to save face
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| While the whole world struggles to become one bland place
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| But where is Maria?
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| There’s a millionaire singing about nothing at all
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| But he looks pretty good and he’s knocking 'em dead down at the mall
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| There’s a woman weary of the look in men’s eyes
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| When they don’t look she just turns away and sighs
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| But where is Maria?
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| There’s a dirty rain falling like the tears of shame
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| She’s the only one I know who’d dance with me in such a rain
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| There’s a guru snoozin' in a limousine
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| And a whole industry pumping blood into recycled scenes
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| There’ll be one corporation selling one little box
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| It’ll do what you want and tell you what you want and cost whatever you got
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| But where is Maria?
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| There’s a pile of letters from lovers friends
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| If your dream came true would you still want it then
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| A series of images on an empty screen
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| No conclusions just a kiss from Mr. In-Between
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| But where is Maria?
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| There’s a wheel of symbols and a wheel of spokes
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| Let’s face it, friends, these are station wagons and we’re our folks
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| The cafe’s open the hotel’s shut down
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| But lord these bad habits sure do stick around
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| But where is Maria?
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| Behind the camera I saw her smile
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| I’d like to go back to that room and stay there for a while
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| There’s a stranger’s body with an old friend’s face
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| There’s a wild parade and a slow fade and a touch of grace
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| Can I visit your house? |
| can I sleep in your bed?
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| Ah Maria, if I rub your back will you rub my head?
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| But where is Maria? |