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christian poem

do assoalho ao teto
homem frio stern
diz de épocas velhas boas
não gire sua cabeça
uma tempestade está montando na maré
para trás, gire para trás
f4-lo vêem sempre um jacaré
quem estará nomeando o vento
eu estive
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
vinho velho a beber
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
pouca porta foi alcançada no último
eu ouvi-os na noite

 



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