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a festa real foi feita
em todas as coisas nĂŁo faladas de
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
deixe-me mover-se lentamente através da rua
como como as estrelas Ă© este o branco, as caras nameless
agora quando meus bordos viverem
o mais saddest do ano
short e doce, e nĂłs viemos Ă  extremidade dela

 



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