After all the jacks are in their boxes And the clowns have all gone to bed You can hear happiness staggerin' on down the street Footprints dressed in red A broom is drearily sweepin' The broken pieces of yesterday's life Somewhere a queen is weepin' Somewhere a king has no wife And the wind cries Mary The traffic lights will turn blue tomorrow And shine emptiness down, down on my bed A tiny island sags on down the stream Cause the life it lived is dead And the wind cries Mary And the wind cries Mary Will the wind ever remember The names that it's blown in the past? With it's crutch, it's old age, and it's wisdom Whispers no, this won't be the last And the wind cries Mary And the wind cries Mary
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