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cowboy poetry

in Ihren Armen war ruhige Freude
fällt hier kein Licht
so verloren
es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
ein kleiner Pfirsich im Obstgarten wuchs
um so bald zu diesem zu kommen stellte sich Dunkelheit vor
schwach-weak-winged Song
obwohl ich wenig als alle kleinen Sachen bin
die Qual des Habens zu vieler Energie

 



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