The Wind Cries Mary (Live At The London Hippodrome, London, England/2007) - Gary Moore

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

Foot rints 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 it cries mary

The traffic lights

They turn blue tomorrow

Shine emptiness down on my bed

The tiny island down tream

'Cos the life that they lived

Is dead

And the wind screams mary

Will the wind ever remember

O the names it has blown in the past

And with this crutch

It's old age and it' wisdom

It whispers no

This will be the last

And the wind cries mary