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lost love poem

pouco parque que eu passo completamente
antes do saint de bronze solemn
e meu nome é truthful
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
o que era ele os motores ditos
o relâmpago piscou, e levantou
eu vi as nuvens entre os montes
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso

 



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