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mom poem

têm você não ouvido
aqueles no superior dizem que o conhecem, terra -- são liars
serene da tarde e brilhante verdes
a música i ouvido com você era mais do que a música
eu sei não onde
diga-me mais menos ou diga-me mais
sob a lua da colheita
encontra-se aqui uma senhora a mais bonita
são você acordado?
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
como como as estrelas é este o branco, as caras nameless

 



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