The Jimi Hendrix Experience
Wind Cries Mary
After all jacks are in their boxesAnd the clowns have all gone to bedYou can hear happiness staggering on down the streetFootprints dressed in redAnd the wind whispers MaryA broom is drearily sweepingUp the broken pieces of yesterday's lifeSomewhere a queen is weepingSomewhere a king has no wifeAnd the wind cries MaryThe traffic lights they turn a blue tomorrowAnd shine their emptiness down on my bedThe tiny island sags downstreamCause the life that they lived is deadAnd the wind screams MaryWill the wind ever rememberThe names it has blown in the pastAnd with its crutch its old age and its wisdomIt whispers "no, this will be the last"And the wind cries Mary
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