親愛なるジョイス Dear Joyce

Lovely Sunday night, Lovely Sunday night, my feeling is so high With the dears, lovely Sunday night That's very artless thing Like that a season changes Like that a bud Like that a bud may broom Like that a bud Like that a bud may broom Something that reside in them The things that lurk in their mind Few time until I see them When I was there in the past Though I repeat pretending not to be seeing it I do not grow up, I do not meet them only a little That's few deviations Though it is only a matter of only that The result that it brought reaches, so like a too white wave Lovely Sunday night, Lovely Sunday night, my feeling is so high With the dears, lovely Sunday night I don't waver in saying that word I'd rather feel even the joy even the joy at saying, With the dears With the dears (I thought that) I should write this before (I thought that) the flowers of the camellia fall from the trees Because that time will come suddenly My feeling My feeling My feeling is so high My feeling My feeling My feeling is so high My feeling My feeling My feeling is so high The result that it brought reaches, so like a too white wave Lovely Sunday night, Lovely Sunday night, my feeling is so high With the dears, lovely Sunday night, That's very artless thing I'm glad to see their smile Lovely Sunday night, Lovely Sunday night, my feeling is so high With the dears, lovely Sunday night, That's very artless thing I'm glad to see their smile Lovely Sunday night, Lovely Sunday night... lovely Sunday night, That's very artless thing I'm glad to see their smile My feeling My feeling My feeling is so high My feeling My feeling My feeling is so high My feeling My feeling My feeling is so high My feeling My feeling My feeling is so high My feeling My feeling My feeling is so high My feeling My feeling My feeling is so high My feeling My feeling My feeling is so high My feeling is so high My feeling is so high