The Wind Cries May - Graham Bonnet

After all the jacks are in their boxes

And the clowns have all gone home to bed

You can hear happiness staggering on downstream

Footprints dressed in red

And the wind whispers Mary

A broom is drearily sweeping

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 in emptiness down upon our bed

The tiny island sails on downstream

'Cause the life it lived is dead

And the wind screams Mary