The Wind Cries Mary

After all the (Bb)jacks are in their boxes and the (C)clowns have all gone to (F)bed,

you can (C)hear happiness (Bb)staggerin' on (F)down the street,

(G)footprints (Bb)dressed in red.

(F5)And the (G)wind

(Bb)whispers (Eb5)(E5)Mary.

(C)A broom is (Bb)drearily (F)sweeping

up the (C)broken pieces of (Bb)yesterday's life.

(C)Somewhere (Cb)a (Bb)queen is (F)weeping.

(G)Somewhere a (Bb)king has no (Eb5)wife.

(F5)And the (G)wind,

it (Bb)cries (Eb5)(E5)(F5)Mary.

(C)The traffic lights, (Bb)they turn, uh,

blue (F)tomorrow and (C)shine their emptiness (Bb)down on my (F)bed.

The tiny (C)island (Bb)sags (F)downstream

'cause the (G)life that lived (Bb)is,

is dead.

(F5)And the (G)wind

(Bb)screams (Eb5)(E5)Mary.

(C)Uh, will the wind (Bb)ever (F)remember

the names it has (Bb)blown in the (F)past?

And with this (C)crutch, its old (Bb)age,

and its (F)wisdom.

It whispers, "No,

(G)this will (Bb)be the last."

(F5)And the (G)wind

(Bb)cries (Eb5)(E5)Mary.