sup hommies

sos

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 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, uh, blue tomorrow

And shine their emptiness down on my bed

The tiny island sags down stream

'cause the life that lived is, is dead

And the wind screams mary

Uh-will the wind ever remember

The names it has blown in the past

And with this crutch, it's old age, and it's wisdom

It whispers no, this will be the last

And the wind cries mary........

I need to start hanging around with my older friends. The younguns are starting to get unruly

And most of their friends are way to young to be flirting with a dirty old man

Yeah, wwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyy to young