The Wind Cries Mary

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

in red. And the wind whispers "Mary." A broom is dribbling 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

The emptiness down in my bed

Tiny island sags downstream

'Cause the light that lived is dead

And the wind screams Mary

Will the wind ever remember

The names it has blown in the past

And with this crutch it's old age and wisdom

Whispers no, this will be the last

In the wind cries Mary