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l'alba era verde mela
dai nostri posti nascosti
avete camminare visto attraverso il villaggio
ora mentre i miei labbri stanno vivendo
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
sotto un albero di diffusione della castagna
non rimanga nient'altro
era un oysterman giovane alto

 



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