Jimi Hendrix - And The Wind Cries Mary

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,
footprints dress 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
Cos the life that they lived is dead.
And the wind screams Mary.
Wi 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 wi will be the last."
And The Wind Cries Mary.