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thanksgiving poem

sobre o rio beckon a mim
eu amei uma mulher
eu sou velho e cego
estourou o vinho feroz
f4-lo vêem sempre um jacaré
pĂ´de tĂŞ-lo sabido na mola mais adiantada
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
poderĂ­amos nĂłs mas para saber
quando eu era quebrou em Londres
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
dentro de minha mĂŁo eu prendo
splendor doce

 



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