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teen poem

jetzt, während meine Lippen leben
Glück
ich erwarte Sie
alter Wein zum Trinken
sie kennt eine preiswerte Freigabe
schöne, tragical Gesichter
die alten Songs
die Berge sind sie leise Völker
um Mitternacht
Blüten der Babys
die Schwärzung
so verloren
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
singen Sie wieder dem Song Sie gesungen

 



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