Are You Experienced?

The wind cries Mary

After all the jacks are in their boxes,
and the clowns have gone to bed.
You can can hear happiness stagering on down the street,
footprints dressed in red.

And the wind whispers Mary.

A broom is dearily sweeping
of 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 then turn blue tomorrow,
and shine the emptiness down on my bed.
The tiny island sags downstream,
'cause the life that they lived 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 and its wisdom,
it wispers "No,this will be the last."

And the wind cries Mary

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