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minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
o que era ele os motores ditos
se eu for muito certo
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
sad são que sabem não o amor
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
passagem através das paredes huddled e feias
eu tenho que dizer good-night
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas

 



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