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senza dubbio mi ricordo di ancora
sopra loro tutte, osservando giĂą
perchè così triste mio bello?
l'odore del è aumentato così falso, le spine così allineare
quando il vento funziona contro di noi nell'oscuritĂ 
ha scoppiato il vino feroce
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno

 



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