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suicide poem

sobre o rio beckon a mim
o que mim lhe devem
alguns dias mais ventosos
quando a noite drifts ao longo das ruas da cidade
quando eu era quebrou em Londres
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
deixe-me ser sad
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
pela ponte rude
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
eu espero-o
o que nós fará agora
e ainda andaram sobre

 



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