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kid poem

eu não queimo nenhum incense
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
passagem através das paredes huddled e feias
minha alma vai clad em coisas gorgeous
eu tive um medo em minha vida
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
e ainda andaram sobre
como uma vela branca
eu não posso dizê-lo agora
as sombras dos navios

 



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