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angel poem

era o outono do ano
envolva a terra no tempo cloudy
nós năo éramos muitos
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio
ao longo de um river-side
năo se aflija que sobre
com o por do sol
sob a lua da colheita
f4-lo ouvem-se sempre de
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
truely

 



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