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life poem

dal ponticello rude
ottanta anni hanno passato e piů
diami la fame
se lo slayer rosso pensa slays
la mia anima va placcata nelle cose gorgeous
sono andati i tre, quelle sorelle rare
ho visto le nubi fra le colline
della l'oscuritŕ e pace nel mia base finale
dio
dove io trovili
la mia anima č un campo arato scuro

 



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