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halloween poetry

sono vecchio e cieco
il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
lascili pity coloro di che sia migliore fuori che noi sono
il sole č in su
notte mysterious
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
con i suoi capelli che flaying sfrenatamente
uno sguardo č ma un raggio
quando ero si č rotto a Londra
un pensiero dolce solenne
quale desidero rilevare
che cosa noi ora farŕ

 



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