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lieben Sie mich schließlich oder, wenn Sie nicht werden
warum so traurig mein reizendes?
wie wie die Sterne dieses Weiß ist, namenlose Gesichter
er warfen einen Stein, Sie warfen einen Stein
gibt es jedes dort
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
so gefallen
und mit dem Summenvogel
noch dreizehn Jahre
einige der Hurts, die Sie kuriert haben

 



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