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o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
eu estou morrendo
eu ando abaixo os trajetos do jardim
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
ao lado de um campo stricken
fraco-é voada a canção
estes corações foram tecidos de alegrias e de cuidados humanos
era não para esse cheiro singular
nobility da morte outra vez
sobre os rooftops compita as sombras das nuvens

 



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