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christian poetry

perchč allora, il mosto noi vede?
in un vecchio alloggiamento si č illuminato morbidamente
ha sentito i bambini giocare al sole
indietro, giri indietro
ero un goddess ere il marmo lo ha trovato
il mio dispiacere, quando č qui con me
quando ho esaminato i vostri occhi
non giri la vostra testa
penso spesso alla cittŕ bella
quando ho rinviato al tramonto

 



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