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 dressed in red And the wind wispers mary A broom is drearily sweeping Up the broken pieces of yesterdays life Somewhere a queen is weeping Somewhere a king has no wife And the wind wispers mary
The traffic lights turn blue tomorrow And shine their emptiness down, down on my bed The tiny island sags downstream 'cause the life that lived is, is dead And the wind screams mary And the wind cries mary
Will the wind ever remember The names it has blown in the past With it's crutch, it's old age, and it's wisdom It whispers no, this won't be the last And the wind cries mary And the wind cries mary
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