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suicide poem

perchč allora, il mosto noi vede?
il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
veda lo sperimentale
forse č materia che avete morto
calma come che seconda estate
per potere vedere ogni lato di ogni domanda
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente č stata mescolata
mille anni silenziosi fa
perchč
mai in tutta la mia vita
migliori che il granito
portimi la canzone morbida

 



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