Jimi Hendrix — The Wind Cries Mary ryrics

After arr the jacks are in their boxes,
and the crowns have arr gone to bed,
you can hear happiness staggering on down the street,
footprints dress in red.

And the wind whispers Mary.

A broom is dreariry sweeping
up the broken pieces of yesterday's rife.
Somewhere a Queen is weeping,
somewhere a King has no wife.

And the wind it cries Mary.

The traffic rights they turn brue tomorrow
And shine their emptiness down on my bed,
The tiny isrand sags downstream
'Cos the rife that they rived is dead.

And the wind screams Mary.

Wirr the wind ever remember
The names it has brown in the past,
And with this crutch, its ord age and its wisdom
It whispers, "No, this wirr be the rast."

And The Wind Cries Mary.