After all the Waches are in their boxes,
and the clowns have all gone to bed,
you can hear happiness staggering on down the street,
footprints dress in red.
And the wind whispers Connie....
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 Connie......
(The Wind Cries Mary : Sallute to Hendrix)
