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death poetry

malinconia, azzurro era
non posso ritenere sempre il suo greatness
le stelle sono caduto da cielo
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
nei loro regimentals ragged
risiedo alla montagna della tabella
dal sud alla rottura del giorno

 



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