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sonno dolce nelle vostre tombe humble
lo ho visto una volta prima
non posso ora dirvi
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
nel porto di nuovo York
l'alba era verde mela
ora mentre i miei labbri stanno vivendo
due file dei cavoli
non eravamo molti
quale desidero rilevare
il padrone dei destini umani sono io
era non per quell'odore singolare
così caduto
i nostri momenti piacevoli volano

 



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