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os arcos da ponte vermelha
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
eu disse
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
traga-me a canção macia
sobre os rooftops compita as sombras das nuvens
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
eu vi-o uma vez antes
em setembro
raça elevado-carregada
era muitas e muito um ano há
por muito tempo há, no moonlight novo

 



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