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. Footsteps dressed in red. And the wind whispers Mary A broom is d
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. Footsteps dressed in red. And the wind whispers Mary A broom is d
A hazy mist hung down the street. The length of it's mile as far as my eye could see. The sky so wide, the houses tall. Or so they seemed to be so they seemed to me so small And it gleamed in the d
