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death poem

ha detto
ed il mio nome č sincero
perchč sono le cose che non hanno morte
se lo slayer rosso pensa slays
agito i miei capelli nel vento della mattina
per allora senza
potrebbe conoscerla nella molla piů in anticipo
era molte e molto un anno fa
il rullo triste del tamburo desonorizzato ha battimento
sonno, fratello grigio della morte
uplifting, come il vento ha saltato
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
dicami non

 



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