Jimi Hendrix
~~*~~
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
footprints dressed 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
And shine an emptiness down on my bed
The tiny island sags down the stream
Cause the life that lived is ... is dead
And the wind screams Mary
Will the wind ever remember
the names it has blown in the past?
And with its crutch, its old age
And its wisdom,
It whispers, No, this will be the last
And the wind cries Mary
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, 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
And shine an emptiness down on my bed
The tiny island sags down the stream
Cause the life that lived is ... is dead
And the wind screams Mary
Will the wind ever remember
the names it has blown in the past?
And with its crutch, its old age
And its wisdom,
It whispers, No, this will be the last
And the wind cries Mary
~~*~~
Arguably the greatest poem in all of rock n' roll.
The music that goes with it is entirely poetic as well.
If you aren't moved by this song,
search your spirit.
For this is life itself sighed into music and lyrics.
The music that goes with it is entirely poetic as well.
If you aren't moved by this song,
search your spirit.
For this is life itself sighed into music and lyrics.
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