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gestiegen von den Toten
tun Sie die Jungen und Mädchen gehen noch
fällt hier kein Licht
wie er wer Geist in der Flamme des Mittages
rühren Sie sich
alle innen und alle ohne mich
ich hatte einen Traum und ich wachte mit ihm auf
einige windigere Tage
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit
alle beruhigen entlang dem potomac

 



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