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i miss you poem

dentro de minha mão eu prendo
f4-lo ouvem-se sempre de
quando a noite drifts ao longo das ruas da cidade
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
no recolhimento da escuridão e pedem
alguns dos hurts que você se curou
em seu vôo

 



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