Our Lady of Monroe
He's out of Newark, a retired detective
Tryna lose some of what he'd seen
He had twenty-five years on the streets
Where the Lord does not intervene
Packed his shaving kit into a small suitcase
Slipped the rosary off the night shelf
Just the cross remains of his faith
Was all that he had left
And the pale Sun of the evening
Cut through the windshield as he drove
Head south on the Jersey Turnpike
To the Lady of Monroe
He and his wife, they'd raised a daughter
But his job was all he'd ever really known
Now she was in southern Indiana
With a family her own
As the refinery fields went rushing by
Thought of his little brown-eyed girl
Shooting cans in the river with his old 22
As the summer trees unfurled
And the pale Sun of the evening
Slipped down, velvet and low
Heard murmured prayers softly rising
To the Lady of Monroe
His rosary hung from the rear-view mirror
A map 'neath the Burger King bag in the front seat
His gun's tucked deep in the glove box
Another useless tool of his trade he'll never need
From his desk in the South precinct
He'd walked that dirty mile
Well, that was all over now
He was gonna learn to live, just to live for a while
Virgin Mother, give me peace
Peace I've never known
In the sunlight, lifted hands softly swaying
To our Lady of Monroe
Nuestra Señora de Monroe
Él es de Newark, un detective retirado
Tratando de olvidar un poco lo que vio
Tuvo veinticinco años en las calles
Donde el Señor no interviene
Empacó su kit de afeitado en una maletita
Deslizó el rosario de la repisa nocturna
Solo queda la cruz de su fe
Era todo lo que le quedaba
Y el pálido sol de la tarde
Cortaba a través del parabrisas mientras manejaba
Con rumbo al sur por la Jersey Turnpike
Hacia la Señora de Monroe
Él y su esposa, criaron a una hija
Pero su trabajo era todo lo que realmente conocía
Ahora ella estaba en el sur de Indiana
Con una familia propia
Mientras los campos de la refinería pasaban velozmente
Pensó en su pequeña de ojos marrones
Disparando latas en el río con su viejo 22
Mientras los árboles de verano se desplegaban
Y el pálido sol de la tarde
Se deslizaba, suave y bajo
Escuchó oraciones murmuradas elevándose suavemente
Hacia la Señora de Monroe
Su rosario colgaba del espejo retrovisor
Un mapa debajo de la bolsa de Burger King en el asiento delantero
Su arma bien guardada en la guantera
Otra herramienta inútil de su oficio que nunca necesitará
Desde su escritorio en la comisaría del sur
Caminó esa milla sucia
Bueno, eso ya se acabó
Iba a aprender a vivir, solo a vivir por un tiempo
Virgen Madre, dame paz
Paz que nunca he conocido
Bajo la luz del sol, manos levantadas meciéndose suavemente
Hacia nuestra Señora de Monroe