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pumpkin poem

sobre o rio, no monte
f4-lo vêem sempre um jacaré
para trás, gire para trás
deixe-nos expressar nossas paixões mais baixas
o Ăşnico punho clenched levantado e apronta-se
as canções velhas
um céu que nunca soubesse o sol, a lua ou as estrelas
apenas agora
apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coração da pedra

 



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