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sorry poem

deus
eu quero saber onde você vive
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
eu ando abaixo os trajetos do jardim
todos aqueles tesouros que se encontram
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verão brilhada
do sol nem das estrelas
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
brilha a última idade, o seguinte com esperança é visto
poderíamos nós mas para saber

 



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