Sunday is gloomy, 
My hours are slumberless.
Dearest, the shadows
I live with are numberless.

Little white flowers
Will never awaken you.
Not where the black coach
Of sorrow has taken you.

Angels have no thought
Of ever returning you.
Would they be angr

unicornia123

Sunday is gloomy,  My hours are slumberless. Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless. Little white flowers Will never awaken you. Not where the black coach Of sorrow has taken you. Angels have no thought Of ever returning you. Would they be angr


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