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poem for pastors

sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
traga-me a canção macia
flores dos bebês
pouco parque que eu passo completamente
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
o dia é feito
completamente dos rasgos
antes do saint de bronze solemn
têm você andar visto através da vila
irmão, eu sou fogo
sol e vento e batida do mar

 



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