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apenas agora
em seu vôo
pensamentos através de minha cabeça
alguns dias mais ventosos
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
sob a lua da colheita
no recolhimento da escuridăo e pedem
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
pôde tę-lo sabido na mola mais adiantada
sobre o rio, no monte
eu ando abaixo os trajetos do jardim

 



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