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funeral poem

ci sono guadagni per tutte le nostre perdite
vivo dalla riva del fiume
qui cade nessuna luce
non giri la vostra testa
sotto la luna della raccolta
circa ha sporto querela al padrone
la sua faccia č giusta e liscia e fine
amo la mia ora di vento e di luce
amo rubare per un po'via
il fratello, sono fuoco

 



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