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não há nenhum escape pelo rio
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
a escuridão rola para cima
escute o mar soando
quando eu era quebrou em Londres
esta é a canção da juventude
a festa real foi feita
pássaros de encontro ao vento de abril
até sua janela da câmara
caído assim
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras

 



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