The 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 dressed 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, they turn blue tomorrow

To shine the emptiness down on my bed

The tiny island sighs aloud in the street

Because the life we live is dead

And the wind screams Mary, Mary

How the wind ever remembers

The names it has blown in the past

And with its crutch, its old age and wisdom

Whispers no kiss will be the last

And the wind cries Mary