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retirement poem

il sole ha fatto un passo giù dal suo throne dorato
se lo slayer rosso pensa slays
figlie di tempo
due file dei cavoli
babylon -- dove vado sognare
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
forse è materia che avete morto
tutti quei tesori che si trovano
una vita sull'onda dell'oceano

 



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