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best friend poem

nos salões do sono você vagueou perto
escute o mar soando
o oeste velho, o tempo velho
deixe-me mover-se lentamente através da rua
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
com os olhos meek, marrons
através do peito aching da terra larga
sabe uma liberação barata
quando eu era um menino na faculdade
abaixo do helm do guerreiro
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
a terra mantem algum ir da vibração
irmão, eu sou fogo

 



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