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cowboy poetry

la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
all'interno della mia mano tengo
gli archi del ponticello rosso
mentre mi sono levato in piedi ascoltare, discreetly dumb
faccialo rotare gi dal prato
met di piaceri e palazzi bench possiamo vagare
la canzone e sogno da per andato mai
lasci il unsaid bello di parole
stella-polvere e luce vaporous
nel porto di nuovo York


 



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