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no porto de york novo
fora do mar sparkling
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
estes sejam
eu sou fevered
quando o véu dos olhos for levantado
macia weeping
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
diga-me não


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