Funeral Blues |
Funeral Blues - W.H. AudenStop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Let airplanes circle moaning overhead He was my North, my South, my East and West, The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; W. H. Auden
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Funeral Blues |
Funeral Blues - W.H. AudenStop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Let airplanes circle moaning overhead He was my North, my South, my East and West, The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; W. H. Auden
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