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Á¦¸ñ: Wind Cries Mary
°¡¼ö: Sting


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 of yesterdays 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 downstream
'Cause the life that lived is
is dead
And the wind screams Mary
<°£ÁÖÁß>
Will the wind ever remember
The names it has blown
in the past?
And with this crutch
its old age, and its wisdom
It whispers no
this will be the last
And the wind cries mary

-----------------
Wind Cries Mary
Sting



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