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THE WIND CRIES MARY
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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
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Staggering on down street
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Footprints 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 yesterday's 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 they'd lived 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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Jimi Hendrix |