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son poem

il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
potrebbe conoscerla nella molla piů in anticipo
esistere dello swan
dal ponticello rude
per allora senza
ho detto
dicami non
come come le stelle č questo il bianco, facce nameless
ci č una cittŕ, builded da nessuna mano
come le aquile sul high alto
quindi non posso
morbidamente ora la luce del giorno
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere

 



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