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cowboy poetry

short e doce, e nós viemos à extremidade dela
apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves
eu vim no deserto porque minha alma é athirst
rosas e ouro
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
quando eu era quebrou em Londres
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
mas alas, sonhos justos
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
estourou o vinho feroz
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu

 



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