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mom poem

para trás, gire para trás
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
não do mundo largo do todo
o alvorecer era verde maçã
prazeres mid e palácios embora nós podemos vaguear
ao longo dos bancos
esta é a canção da juventude

 



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