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lost love poem

não gire sua cabeça
diz de épocas velhas boas
os céus que eram ashen e sober
eu amei uma mulher
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
como eu me encontro telhado dentro, selecionado dentro
há um país completamente do vinho
deixe-me mover-se lentamente através da rua
quando eu olhei em seus olhos
última noite a lua cheia colocou um pano do branco

 



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