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short funny poem

traurig sprechend
und breakethbrot nicht mehr
ich wundere mich, wo Sie leben
gibt es jedes dort
ich kann nicht seinem greatness immer glauben
alle jene Schätze, die liegen
lieben Sie mich schließlich oder, wenn Sie nicht werden
wenn Freiheit von ihrer Gebirgshöhe
meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind

 



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