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death poem

mai in tutta la mia vita
la mia anima va placcata nelle cose gorgeous
avete camminare visto attraverso il villaggio
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
quando venite stasera
il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
quando ho esaminato i vostri occhi
che cosa era esso i motori detti
in un vecchio alloggiamento si č illuminato morbidamente
il fratello, sono fuoco
fate non sentirsi

 



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