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birthday poem

ich liege am Tabellenberg
hängen Sie keinen Wreath
einfach sprechend
die Sonne ist oben
Liebe ist tausend Möglichkeiten gesungen worden
unter dem Erntemond
Sie sind schön und verblassen
holen Sie mir weichen Song
einmal dieser weiche Rasen
Roses und Gold
er würde sogar seinen Witz haben
er kam mich durch die Hand nehmen
mit den meek, braunen Augen

 



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