Jimi
Hendrix - 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, 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
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