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sad poetry

baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
nunca em toda minha vida
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
agora que eu lhe esfriei
paredes e enorme elevados
eu encho este copo
sombras voadas que varrem perto
na terra silenciosa
é verdadeiro que você diz que os deuses lhe são mais uso do que fairies

 



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