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suicide poem

o rolo sad do cilindro muffled tem a batida
o alvorecer era verde maçă
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
quando eu era um menino na faculdade
encontra-se aqui uma senhora a mais bonita
o mestre de destinies humanos é mim
eu vi a primeira pera
vivido pelo river-side
e ainda andaram sobre
caras bonitas, tragical

 



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