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quando o véu dos olhos for levantado
não se aflija que sobre
noite misteriosa
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
um por um, como sae de uma árvore
eu despise meus amigos mais do que você
da canção e do sonho para ido sempre
escuro-eyed
a mulher faltou-me muito, como você se chama me, chamada
agora que eu lhe esfriei

 



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