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mom poem

e assim vai
amigo, cujo o sorriso veio ser
eighty anos passaram, e mais
a agonia de ter demasiado poder
f4-lo vêem sempre um jacaré
a algum os deuses gordos
eu sou velho e cego
uma tempestade está montando na maré
sobre o rio, no monte
ao longo dos bancos

 



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