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lyric poem

veda, da questa falsificazione di lui
perchč cosě triste mio bello?
non appenda corona
il sole č in su
nel porto di nuovo York
era l'autunno dell'anno
amo rubare per un po'via
ci sono guadagni per tutte le nostre perdite
i giorni hypocritic
non sia arrabbiato con me
uomo freddo severo
qui si trova una signora la piů bella
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi

 



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