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meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
passado unrelenting do thou
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
como selvagem, como bruxa-como estranho que a vida deve ser
a música i ouvido com você era mais do que a música
nunca em toda minha vida
eu encho este copo
composto do loveliness sozinho
em números mournful
olhar além
short e doce, e nós viemos à extremidade dela
quietamente, com reverance, no awe
há um que esse i amou uma vez assim muito
eu sou o vento que wavers

 



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