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friendship poetry

quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
la pioggia finito e l'aria brillante
oscillato nella culla del profondo
su e giù va
morbido come la base nella terra
in tutte le cose non parlate di
le vecchie canzoni
esprimiamo le nostre passioni più basse
rose ed oro
qui si trova una signora la più bella
limps con la fermata del passo doloroso
uno con voi

 



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