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short funny poem

são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
não há nenhum rebanho, porém prestado atenção e tendido
meu sorrow, quando for aqui com mim
como deva mim ajude à direita ao mundo que está indo erradamente
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
o alvorecer era verde maçã
diga-me
os céus que eram ashen e sober
balançado no berço do profundo

 



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