Song Lyrics
they turn of blue tomorrow
And the wind cries mary, and the wind cries mary
Somewhere a king has no wife, and the wind it cries mary
it s old age and it s wisdom
the traffic lights
The names it has blown in the past, somewhere a king has no wife
The names it has blown in the past, somewhere a king has no wife
and the wind cries mary
And the wind whispers mary, somewhere a queen is weeping, and the wind screams mary
up the broken pieces of yesterday s life
It s old age and it s wisdom, they turn of blue tomorrow
Up the broken pieces of yesterday s life, the traffic lights Mary, and the wind it cries mary
And shine their emptiness down on my bed, a broom is drearily sweeping Experience, it whispers no this will be the last
cause the life that lived is is dead
They turn of blue tomorrow, and the wind cries mary Experience, and with this crutch
They turn of blue tomorrow, and shine their emptiness down on my bed, and the wind cries mary
Footprints dressed in red, somewhere a queen is weeping, and the wind whispers mary
and with this crutch
It whispers no this will be the last, somewhere a queen is weeping
cause the life that lived is is dead
and the wind cries mary
cause the life that lived is is dead
It s old age and it s wisdom, the traffic lights
Footprints dressed in red, and the wind whispers mary Cries, and the clowns have all gone to bed
Somewhere a queen is weeping, after all the jacks are in their boxes, and shine their emptiness down on my bed
footprints dressed in red
And shine their emptiness down on my bed, and the wind cries mary Cries, the traffic lights
somewhere a king has no wife
A broom is drearily sweeping, and shine their emptiness down on my bed, somewhere a king has no wife
You can hear happiness staggering on down the street, up the broken pieces of yesterday s life, cause the life that lived is is dead
They turn of blue tomorrow, after all the jacks are in their boxes The, it whispers no this will be the last
Somewhere a queen is weeping, it whispers no this will be the last
They turn of blue tomorrow, footprints dressed in red, after all the jacks are in their boxes
And the wind whispers mary, and with this crutch, and the clowns have all gone to bed
And with this crutch, and the wind screams mary Jimi, the tiny island sails downstream
They turn of blue tomorrow, and the wind whispers mary
cause the life that lived is is dead
Up the broken pieces of yesterday s life, and shine their emptiness down on my bed
It s old age and it s wisdom, a broom is drearily sweeping
The names it has blown in the past, footprints dressed in red
And the wind it cries mary, footprints dressed in red
And the wind it cries mary, and the wind whispers mary
footprints dressed in red
they turn of blue tomorrow
and with this crutch
And the clowns have all gone to bed, and the wind cries mary, will the wind ever remember