The Wind Cries Mary ( Hendrix )

After all the jacks are up 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 dribbly sweeping

Up the broken pieces of yesterday's life

Somewhere a queen is weeping

Somewhere a king has no wife

The wind cries "Mary"

The traffic lights, they turn on blue tomorrow.

They shine the redness down on my bed.

Tiny island sacks downstream, 'cause the light they lift

is dead.

And the wind screams, Mary, will the wind ever

remember the names it has blown in the past?

And with this crutch, this old age, and wisdom,

whispers, no, this will be the last.

In the wind cries Mary