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brother poem

caras bonitas, tragical
sob a lua da colheita
como eu me encontro telhado dentro, selecionado dentro
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
eu ouvi-me que uma determinada princesa
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
babylon -- onde eu vou sonhar
eu tenho que dizer good-night

 



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