Wind Cries Mary

After all the jacks are in their boxes And the clowns have all gone to bed You can hear happiness staggering on down the street Footprints dress in red And the wind whispers Mary A broom is drearily sweeping Up the broken pieces of yesterday's life Somewhere a Queen is weeping Somewhere a King has no wife And the wind cries Mary The traffic lights turn blue tomorrow Shine their emptiness down on my bed The tiny island sags downstream Because the life that they lived is dead And the wind screams Mary Oh, oh yeah Will the wind ever remember The names it has blown in the past But it's crutch, it's old age and wisdom Whispers, "No, this will be the last" And the wind cries Mary