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 yesterday's life

Somewhere a Queen is weeping

Somewhere a King has no wife

And the wind cries Mary

The traffic lights turn blue tomorrow

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

Oh oh yeah

Will the wind ever remember

The names it has blown in the past

With this crutch its old age and its wisdom

It whispers "No this will be the last "

And the wind cries Mary