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
|
Footsteps dressed in red
|
And the wind whispers 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 it cries Mary
|
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
|
is dead
|
And the wind screams Mary
|
<간주중>
|
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
|
|
-----------------
|
Wind Cries Mary
|
| Sting |
