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christmas poem

cidade que não é uma cidade
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
eu vi as estrelas as mais orgulhosas
um com você
babylon -- onde eu vou sonhar
em possa
um pensamento doce solemn
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
qual se mantem
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays

 



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