Baixar Mais Tocadas: ouvir Billie Holiday

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

Speak low when you speak, love / Our summer day withers away too soon, too soon / Speak low when you speak, love / Our moment is swift, like ships adrift, we’re swept apart, too soon