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sorry poem

ora mentre i miei labbri stanno vivendo
per questi bracci bianchi circa il mio collo
da solo
un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
ora per una lotta attiva e cheerful
un gleam di oro il gloom in e gray
perchč allora, il mosto noi vede?
dal profondo e l'oscuritŕ
deve andare indietro, ha detto
una foschia stava guidando giů
il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
pensieri tramite la mia testa

 



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