THE WIND CRIES MARY
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 king has no wife.
And the winds 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 life 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 it's wisdom it whispers,
"No, this will be the last."
And the wind cries Mary.
Jimi Hendrix