23.12.2020
Not all days are a Sunday
Not all days are a SundayNot all days there is wine
But you shall all days
Be fairly kind to me
And once I'm dead
You shall think about me
At evening as well, as you fall asleep
But you may not cry
At evening as well, as you fall asleep
But you may not cry
And when it get's dark
Gray hair and gray sense
Let light, let light
How happy I'd be
And once I'm dead
You shall think about me
At evening as well, as you fall asleep
But you may not cry
At evening as well, as you fall asleep
But you may not cry