The Wind Cries Mary

written by Jimi Hendrix

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,
Their footprints dressed in red.

And the wind whispers Mary...

A broom is drirerly sweeping,
Up the pieces of yesterday's life,
Somewhere a Queen is weaping,
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 the stream,
Cause the life that it lived is dead.

And the wind screams Mary...

Will the wind ever remember,
The names it has blown in the Past?
And with its crush,
Its old age and its wisdom,
It whispers no this will be the last.

And the wind cries Mary...