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baby poem

sedendosi nel suo attuatore che aspetta il vostro tè
lo ho visto una volta prima
la festività reale è stata fatta
l'aria è piena l'alba del e la molla
migliori che il granito
ho vinto la corsa
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
quando libertà dalla sua altezza della montagna
una parola di volo di qui e là
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
ha detto
non sia arrabbiato con me

 



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