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dark poetry

sono il vento che esita
in pieno delle rotture
ci è una città, builded da nessuna mano
sono fevered
tutti dentro e tutti senza di me
un cielo che non ha conosciuto mai il sole, la luna o le stelle
bello
lascilo essere triste
era un oysterman giovane alto
tengo il vostro cuore
dal puntello, dal mare
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire

 



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