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poem for pastors

meu sorrow, quando for aqui com mim
qual eu desejo observar
como selvagem, como bruxa-como estranho que a vida deve ser
mas eu năo posso lę-lo agora
o que mim lhe devem
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
há um que esse i amou uma vez assim muito
deixe-nos expressar nossas paixőes mais baixas

 



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