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
TURN BLUE TOMORROW
SHINE THE EMPTINESS
DOWN ON MY BED
THE TINY ISLAND
IT SAGS DOWNSTREAM
BECAUSE THE LIFE THAT
THEY LEAD IS DEAD
AND THE WIND SCREAMS MARY
OH-OH-YEAH
WILL THE WIND
EVER REMEMBER
THE NAMES IT HAS
BLOWN IN THE PAST
WITH ITS CRUTCH
ITS OLD AGE, ITS WISDOM
IT WHISPERS, NO
THIS WILL BE THE LAST
AND THE WIND CRIES MARY...