words and music by Jimi Hendrix
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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 blue tomorrow
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And shine their emptiness down on my bed
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The tiny island sags downstream
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'Cause the life that lived is, is dead
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And the wind screams Mary
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Will the wind ever remember
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The names it has blown in the past?
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And with this crutch, its old age, and its wisdom
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It whispers no, this will be the last
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And the wind cries mary
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The Wind Cries Mary
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| Sting & Police |
