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life poetry

vinho velho a beber
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
diga-me mais menos ou diga-me mais
aqueles no superior dizem que o conhecem, terra -- são liars
simplesmente falando
como como as estrelas é este o branco, as caras nameless
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
diga-me não
os dias melancólicos vieram

 



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