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sorry poem

doubtless eu recordo ainda
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
os céus que eram ashen e sober
têm você andar visto através da vila
uma tempestade está montando na maré
simplesmente falando
travails da terra
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
se eu souber o narrow uma prisão é amor
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
pôde tê-lo sabido na mola mais adiantada
eu tive um sonho e eu acordei com ele
vindo para baixo no alvorecer dos montes windless
lá pela janela na casa velha

 



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