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acrostic poem

penso spesso alla città bella
con i suoi capelli che flaying sfrenatamente
in settembre
ci sono guadagni per tutte le nostre perdite
dicami
ombre alate che scopano vicino
esprimiamo le nostre passioni più basse
che cosa era esso i motori detti
era l'autunno dell'anno
ha scoppiato il vino feroce
vado il mio senso complacently

 



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