Mario Y Maria

E/G# E/F# E E/G# E/F# E E Mario was a perfect stranger A Even in the face of danger E B7 Nobody knew if he’d hang around or turn around and run E From Heaven to the other side of Hades A He was attractive to the ladies E B7 E Some said he was an angel and some said he was the Devil’s son A But if there was a lock on swift salvation E Mario picked the combination B7 A B7 Headed for higher ground with real gold in his heart E And he left a trail no one could trace A And he told half-truths no one could face E B7 E Deep in the river of his soul, the time had come to part A B7 E E/G# E/F# E There are those who never come home E Maria was the lonely one A And Mario was the only one E B7 Who ever meant anything more to her than a fast “how do you do?” E With a roof over her prayerful head A And a gun under her feather bed E B7 E She had nightmares every day, and all of them came true A But changing time and different places E She found friends and fresher faces B7 A B7 If she had a memory, she’d locked it in her heart E Accusations, loaded questions A Empty thoughts and a few confessions E B7 E Yesterday’s the finish and tomorrow is the start A B7 E E/G# E/F# E There are those who never come home E Angeline carved wooden dreams A An artist of the world it seems E B7 A chisel cut her finger off, the one that wore the ring E And the doctor swore he heard her say A “It never fit me anyway E B7 E I would have sold it yesterday, but it wasn’t worth a thing” A Well the missing finger changed her style E And the missing ring just made her smile B7 A B7 She carved a spitting image of Maria rubbing her eye E And around that statue’s neck of pine A On a yellow necklace made of twine E B7 E She hung that little worthless ring and nobody asked her why A B7 E E/G# E/F# E There are those who never come home E At Maria’s likeness, hearts would rupture A All throughout the world of sculpture E B7 The well-to-do laid money down to stand around and stare E But on a locked up Sunday night A That statue disappeared from sight E B7 E And it must have been a masterpiece, ‘cause it vanished in thin air A Angeline committed suicide E Some call it sad, some call it pride B7 A B7 Some joker said, “it could have been worse, she could’ve cut off her ear” E But the art world faced another fact A For her next-to-last artistic act E B7 E Was a spitting image of Mario wiping away a tear A B7 E E/G# E/F# E There are those who never come home E The gravedigger wiped away the sweat A His hands were dry, but his face was wet E B7 And the ladies watching him wanted to get their hands on that man E But somebody else had a closer shave A Carving on the cross, built for the grave E B7 E The chisel slipped and nearly cut a finger from a hand A Well across attracted hummingbirds E One for each of seven words B7 A B7 “Life if possible, art at any cost” E But somebody asked when the crowd dispersed A If they got that epitaph reversed E B7 E The undertaker pointed out the last word on the cross A B7 E E/G# E/F# E He said, “There are those who never come home” E Well a busted Mario all did see A Under glass and lock and key E B7 Sure enough, as fate would have it, it got stolen too E And just like the real Mario A It found its way down through the barrio E B7 E And left on a lonesome boxcar as some train came rolling through A Well the undertaker was buried in dust E And the gravedigger satisfied his lust B7 E B7 Worked his way to the top of the pile, a connoisseur of the arts E And everybody else that was concerned A Just chalked it up as a lesson learned E B7 E And the memories were flushed away down a common sewer of their hearts A B7 E E/G# E/F# E E/G# E/F# E There are those who never come home E Imagination’s hard to manage A It takes time to take advantage E B7 It takes lots of space itself to fill out everyday E And the ending’s worse than Elvira Madigan A Guerrillas got loose and bombed the Vatican E B7 E Stole a couple of crying statues and hauled them away A Well they sold them as a matching pair E In some clandestine affair B7 E B7 At last they’re out there somewhere crying face to face E And the real Maria spits in her mirror A And the real Mario spits in his beer E B7 E And both of them on separate paths, still drift from place to place A B7 E There are those who never come home A B7 E E/G# E/F# E E/G# E/F# E Yeah there are those who never come home