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fall poetry

f4-lo vêem sempre um jacaré
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
nós não éramos muitos
eu ofereci-os todo o farewell
deus
olhe para fora em cima das estrelas, meu amor
eu moldei o mundo
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
o cheiro do levantou-se assim falso, os espinhos assim verdadeiros
deixe-me mover-se lentamente através da rua
porque
passado unrelenting do thou

 



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