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gothic poetry

per veritŕ, per amore
amico, di cui il sorriso č venuto essere
perchč allora, il mosto noi vede?
la mia anima va placcata nelle cose gorgeous
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
li ho fatti un'offerta tutto l'addio
la notte era nera e drear
li ho detestati

 



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