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religious poem

come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
all'interno della mia mano tengo
alti pareti ed enorme
ora mentre i miei labbri stanno vivendo
potrebbe conoscerla nella molla più in anticipo
portimi la canzone morbida
i nostri momenti piacevoli volano
le verità terribili questi sono
ancora il suo gray oscilla la torretta sopra il mare
ha incurvato l'inondazione
ho visto la prima pera

 



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