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algum queixou-se ao mestre
eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
do assoalho ao teto
no porto de york novo
o ar é como uma borboleta
veja que eu me dou a você
um pensamento doce solemn
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
não esteja irritado com mim
pouco parque que eu passo completamente
faça os meninos e as meninas vão ainda

 



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