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religious poem

quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
eu despise meus amigos mais do que vocĂŞ
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
o ar Ă© como uma borboleta
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
uma milha atrás
sabe uma liberação barata
ouviu as crianças jogar no sol

 



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