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seu cabelo bonito
a algum os deuses gordos
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
eu vi-o uma vez antes
esta é a canção da juventude
como um homem despido mim vai
uma tempestade está montando na maré
nós colocamos
teria mesmo seu gracejo
quem ama a chuva
não se aflija que sobre
veja, desta moeda falsa dele
eu ganhei a raça
quando, cheio do amor morno e ansioso

 



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