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funeral poem

sceso all'alba dalle colline windless
ci è uno che quella i amava una volta così tanto
stuff della luna
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
nei numeri mournful
perchè
indietro, giri indietro
il lampo ha esposto a flash ed ha alzato
tempesta
l'aria è come una farfalla
fiori dei bambini
ha scoppiato il vino feroce
persino avrebbe suo scherzo

 



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