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sad death poem

er spricht nicht gut
es gab drei in der Wiese durch den Bach
einige windigere Tage
in ihren zackigen regimentals
ich liebte eine Frau
wenn Sie heute abend kommen
weich als das Bett in der Masse
Stadt, die nicht eine Stadt ist
lassen Sie einen Freudenunterhalt Sie
ich brenne keinen Duft
sie kennt eine preiswerte Freigabe

 



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