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sad poem

eighty anos passaram, e mais
o amor foi cantado mil maneiras
e pĂŁo do breaketh mais
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
era uma oysterman novo alto
e assim vai
eu prendo seu coração
eu vou minha maneira complacently
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
todos quiet ao longo do potomac

 



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