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death poem

nunca em toda minha vida
minha alma vai clad em coisas gorgeous
têm você andar visto através da vila
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
quando você vier hoje à noite
o oeste velho, o tempo velho
quando eu olhei em seus olhos
o que era ele os motores ditos
em uma câmara velha iluminou-se macia
irmão, eu sou fogo
têm você não ouvido

 



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