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sex poem

non giri la vostra testa
perchè sono le cose che non hanno morte
quando ero si è rotto a Londra
vivo dalla riva del fiume
uno per uno, come va da un albero
sto morendo
burly, humble-ape fare un pisolino
stuff della luna
pensate, il mio ragazzo, quando metto i miei bracci intorno voi
sono fevered
nei loro regimentals ragged
ci sono guadagni per tutte le nostre perdite
così perso
dio

 



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