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funny poetry

porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
eu ouvi o vento o dia inteiro
para a verdade, para o amor
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
o prado estava rastejando
têm você não ouvido
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira
você é meu companheiro
receoso não mais, eu digo

 



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