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 wispers 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 wispers mary      The traffic lights turn blue tomorrow   And shine their emptiness down, down on my bed   The tiny island sags downstream   'cause the life that lived is, is dead   And the wind screams mary   And the wind cries mary      Will the wind ever remember   The names it has blown in the past   With it's crutch, it's old age, and it's wisdom   It whispers "no, this won't be the last"   And the wind cries mary   And the wind cries mary