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
Footsteps dressed in red
And the wind
whispers Mary
A broom is drearily sweeping
Up the broken pieces
ofyesterdays life
Somewhere
a queen is weeping
Somewhere
a king has no wife
And the wind
it cries Mary
The traffic lights they turn
blue tomorrow
And shine their emptiness
down on my bed
The tiny island
sags down stream
cause the life that lived is
Is dead
And the wind
screams Mary
Uh
will the wind ever remember
The names
it has blown in the past
And with this crutch
it's old age
and it's wisdom
It whispers no
this will be the last
And the wind
cries Mary