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, uh, blue tomorrow
|
And shine their emptiness down on my bed
|
The tiny island sags down stream
|
?cause the life that lived is,
|
Is dead
|
And the wind screams mary
|
Uh-will the wind ever remember
|
The names it has blow 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
|
|
-----------------
|
Lenny
|
John Mayer |