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brother poem

diga-me mais menos ou diga-me mais
a noite era preta e drear
eu não queimo nenhum incense
envolva a terra no tempo cloudy
vontade você glimmer no mar?
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
paredes e enorme elevados
se eu for muito certo
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro

 



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