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cowboy poetry

sono fevered
non posso ora dirvi
i giorni hypocritic
provato nel glimmer nei vostri occhi
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
musing, fra il tramonto e l'oscurità
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
ho visto che il dio voi lo dubita?
chi è il corridore nei cieli
nelle mattine nube-grige

 



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