After all the jacks are in their boxes
and the clowns have all gone to bed
You can hear happiness staggering on downstreet
footprints 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 they lived is, is dead
And the wind screams MARY

Will the wind ever remember
the names it has blown in the past
and with its crutch, its old age, and its wisdom
it whispers no, this won't be the last
And the wind, it cries MARY

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,
Footprints dressed in red.

And the wind whispers Mary.

A broom is drearily sweeping
Up the broken pieces of yesterday's 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
'Cos the life that they lived is dead.

And the wind screams Mary.

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 it cries Mary.

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
Footprints dressed in red
And the wind whispers mary

A broom is drearily sweeping
Up the broken pieces of yesterday's 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 down stream
cause the life that lived is,
Is dead
And the wind screams mary

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

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 blown 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

And after all the Jacks are in their boxes,
And the clowns have all gone to bed.
You can hear the happiness staggering on downstream,
Footprints dressed in red.
And the wind whispers Mary.
A broom is drearily sweeping,
Up the broken pieces of yesterday's life.
Somewhere a Queen is weepin',
Somewhere a King has no wife.
And the wind cries Mary.
Mary.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
The traffic lights they turn blue tomorrow,
And shine their emptiness down on my bed,
Their tiny island sags on downstream,
'Cause the life that lived is dead.
And the wind screams Mary.
Now will that wind ever remember,
All those names it has blown in the past.
Now with its crutch, its old age and its wisdom,
It whispers "No, this will be the last".
And the wind screams Mary.
Mary.
Mary.

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
Footprints 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 blown 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