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best friend poem

die Lattentagesdrowses auf dem westlichen durchtränken
in einem alten Raum beleuchtete weich
ich liebe, eine Weile weg zu stehlen
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
Sturm
steigender Mond hat die Sterne versteckt
zweifellos erinnere mich ich noch
tun Sie die Jungen und Mädchen gehen noch
Sie sagen, daß Sie mich lieben
alle werfen die Jahre nieder
während ich das Hören stand, diskret dumb

 



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