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lyric poetry

von unseren versteckten Plätzen
ruhig mit reverance, im Awe
hoch-getragenes Rennen
ich wußte nie, daß die Masse soviel Gold hatte
Frau vermißte viel, wie Sie zu mir benennen, Anruf zu mir
durch die ausgedehnten schmerzende Brust der Masse
ein mit Ihnen
weich weinend
machen Sie sich nicht um das unsichtbare Sorgen
wie ein blanker Mann ich gehen

 



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