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funeral poem

eu quero saber às vezes se for realmente verdadeiro
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
macia weeping
musing, entre o por do sol e a obscuridade
têm você andar visto através da vila
através do peito aching da terra larga
esse companheiro estranho veio em baralhar os pés
quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes
não há nenhum escape pelo rio
as sombras colocam ao longo de broadway

 



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