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short love poem

il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
ma non posso ora leggerlo
con gioia e wonder
vivo dalla riva del fiume
se lo slayer rosso pensa slays
quell'anno
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
e come potreste sogno della riunione
vecchio vino da bere
è venuto prenderlo dalla mano
con di anima dei labbri colore rosso e cuore della pietra

 



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