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fall poem

schauen Sie heraus nach den Sternen, meine Liebe
lassen Sie nicht hören
geben Sie mir Hunger
in den Hallen des Schlafes wandered Sie vorbei
wickeln Sie die Masse im bewölkten Wetter auf
die auf das Oberseite sagen, daß sie Sie, Masse kennen -- sie sind Lügner
traurige Rolle der gedämpften Trommel hat Schlag
er kam mich durch die Hand nehmen

 



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