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algum queixou-se ao mestre
eu prendo seu coração
eu fui acima e trago as ruas
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
mulher boa
eu amo roubar por algum tempo afastado
o sol está acima
não do mundo largo do todo
da canção e do sonho para ido sempre
desolado e solitário
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta

 



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