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son poem

o sol está acima
veja, desta moeda falsa dele
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
burly, humble-abelha aplanar
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
para trás, gire para trás
quando a noite drifts ao longo das ruas da cidade
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
eu vi que o deus você a duvida?
eu sobre-tinha preparado o evento
a escuridão rouba os formulários de todas as rainhas
não pendure nenhuma grinalda

 



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