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lyric poetry

se lo slayer rosso pensa slays
tutti dentro e tutti senza di me
era una bellezza nei giorni
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
siete svegli?
i loro capelli bei
vecchio vino da bere
quando vado di nuovo a terra
benchè sia piccolo come tutte le cose piccole
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate
il giorno è fatto
la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me

 



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