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thanksgiving poem

o relâmpago piscou, e levantou
cidade que não é uma cidade
a escuridão
meu sorrow, quando for aqui com mim
pouco parque que eu passo completamente
lá pela janela na casa velha
aqueles no superior dizem que o conhecem, terra -- são liars
nobility da morte outra vez
há um que esse i amou uma vez assim muito
em setembro
agora para uma luta viva e cheerful

 



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