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footprint poem

i giorni hypocritic
uccelli contro il vento di aprile
siete bei e sbiaditi
dialo
siete vivi?
tutti quei tesori che si trovano
č ci qualcuno lŕ
perchč allora, il mosto noi vede?
li ho sentiti nella notte
come mi trovo coperto dentro, selezionato dentro
sto cantando voi
ci č una cittŕ, builded da nessuna mano
tutti si acquietano lungo il potomac

 



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