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funeral poem

come candela bianca
alla mezzanotte
era non per quell'odore singolare
penso spesso alla cittŕ bella
tristi sono che conoscono non l'amore
notte mysterious
di ci non era mai un suono al lato il legno ma uno
era un oysterman giovane alto
sopra il fiume beckon a me
ho visto la prima pera
aumentato dai morti
sotto il timone del guerriero
non posso ora dirvi

 



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