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con i suoi capelli che flaying sfrenatamente
corsa alto-sopportata
i cieli che erano ashen e sobrio
rompiamo il vetro di cui vino sacred
non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
addolorisi non per l'invisibile
le vecchie canzoni
sono il vento che esita
sto morendo
il sole č in su

 



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