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gothic poetry

eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
glooms dos viv-carvalhos
eu estou cantando-lhe
os dias melancólicos vieram
travails da terra
eighty anos passaram, e mais
têm você andar visto através da vila
veja, eles retornam
sombras voadas que varrem perto
eu quero saber às vezes se for realmente verdadeiro

 



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