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'
(Instrumental) The Traffic Lights, They Turn Blue Tomorrow And
Shine Their Emptiness Down On My Bed The Tiny
Island Sags Downstream 'Cause The Life That 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 Cries 'Mary'