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gothic poetry

ci č un paese in pieno di vino
era un oysterman giovane alto
ho fatto una pausa la stoffa per tendine aperta
nei numeri mournful
tutti si acquietano lungo il potomac
non eravamo molti
chi ama la pioggia
circa ha sporto querela al padrone
una penna di acciaio
sedendosi nel suo attuatore che aspetta il vostro tč
tengo il vostro cuore
e pane del breaketh non di piů

 



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