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poem for dad

er wĂĽrde sogar seinen Witz haben
ich sterbe
lassen Sie uns Pity die, denen besser seien Sie weg von, als wir sind
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit
von unseren versteckten Plätzen
wenn ihr Haar wild flaying
Frau vermiĂźte viel, wie Sie zu mir benennen, Anruf zu mir
wie ich sollen Sie, helfen Sie rechts der Welt, die falsch geht
grĂĽnes Nachmittagsserene und hell

 



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