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lyric poem

obwohl Lieberepine und Grundscheuern
ein Sturm fährt auf den Tide
es gibt Gewinne für alle unsere Verluste
für diese weißen Arme über meinen Ansatz
babylon -- wo ich gehe zu träumen
Sonne trat unten von seinem goldenen Throne
welches hält
die Sterne fielen vom Himmel
von Fußboden zu Decke


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