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black poetry

esta é a canção da juventude
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
fora do mar sparkling
lá pela janela na casa velha
não há nenhum escape pelo rio
fala não bem
na terra silenciosa
uplifting, como o vento fundiu
deixe-me ser sad
você está desobstruído
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
pôde tê-lo sabido na mola mais adiantada

 



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