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pastor appreciation poem

estourou o vinho feroz
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
sob a lua da colheita
eu sei o que você está indo dizer
nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
perguntam-me onde eu estive

 



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