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best friend poem

eu amo minha vida, mas não demasiado bem
quando eu for para trás ligar à terra
não há nenhum escape pelo rio
era o outono do ano
abaixo do helm do guerreiro
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
eu v todas as sagacidades humanas
muito bem, você liberais
alguns dias mais ventosos
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares
ao lado de um campo stricken

 



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