Maybe there never was a Maria that came into the studios and if there had been no one could see her, she being  a starlet who let the light pass right through her while the celluloid ran on the reel and if she'd been real she'd have ran.

The
silver vein that ripped out the thoughts and came to a halt at the end of the shaft which lifted the lid tied on to her brain tailed away?


I didn't know nothing whichever way or why the wind blew and I don't think anyone else knew,
but if love does exist and if I ever see her
I'll tell Maria
I love her.