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o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
veja, eles retornam
todos aqueles tesouros que se encontram
fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes
um poeta, fazendo exame do breio fora de sua lingĂĽeta
o que era ele os motores ditos
eu nĂŁo posso sempre sentir seu greatness
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
apenas agora
havia um strangeness em seus bordos

 



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