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thanksgiving poetry

como um homem despido mim vai
calma como que segundo verão
f4-lo vêem sempre um jacaré
em números mournful
a noite era preta e drear
carrinho aqui por meu lado
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
simplesmente falando
um pensamento doce solemn
uma milha atrás
mundo que muda sob minha mão

 



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