After all the jacks are in the boxes And the clowns have all gone to bed You can hear happiness staggering on down the street Footprints dressed in red And the wind whispers merry 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 cries merry Traffic lights turn blue tomorrow Shining emptiness down on one way A shiny island, it sags down the street Because the light that they leave is dead And the wind screams merry Oh yeah! Will the wind ever remember The names it has blown in the past But its crutch, its old age, its wisdom Whispers no, this will be the last And the wind cries merry Thanks for watching!
