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teen poem

bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
era uma oysterman novo alto
eu estou morrendo
olhe para trás com olhos longing e saiba que eu seguirei
como deva mim ajude à direita ao mundo que está indo erradamente
tiveram e i mas encontrado com
minha mĂŁe ensinou-me que cada noite
havia trĂŞs no prado pelo ribeiro

 



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