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good bye poem

rode-me para baixo pelo prado
a festa real foi feita
o oeste velho, o tempo velho
pela ponte rude
vivido pelo river-side
você está desobstruído
e enquanto nĂłs andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
eu arremessei minha alma ao ar como um vĂ´o do falcĂŁo
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
um pensamento doce solemn
vocĂŞ Ă© bonito e desvanecido

 



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