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 yesterdays life
Somewhere a queen is weeping somewhere a king has no wife
And the wind it cries mary
The traffic lights they turn of blue tomorrow