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birthday poem

as máscaras da noite estavam caindo rapidamente
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras
última meia-noite
agite
esteja em mim como os modos eternal
não gire sua cabeça
aqueles olhos pretos i elogiado uma vez assim
eu sou o vento que wavers
eu não posso sempre sentir seu greatness
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor

 



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