After all the jacks are in their boxes
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And the clowns have all gone to bed
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You can hear happiness staggering on down the street
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Footsteps dressed in red
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And the wind whispers mary
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A broom is drearily sweeping
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Up the broken pieces of yesterdays life
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Somewhere a queen is weeping
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Somewhere a king has no wife
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And the wind, it cries mary
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The traffic lights, they turn, uh, blue tomorrow
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And shine their emptiness down on my bed
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The tiny island sags down stream
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?cause the life that lived is,
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Is dead
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And the wind screams mary
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Uh-will the wind ever remember
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The names it has blow in the past?
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And with this crutch, it?s old age, and it?s wisdom
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It whispers no, this will be the last
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And the wind cries mary
|
|
-----------------
|
Lenny
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| John Mayer |
