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halloween poem

warum dann, Muß wir? sieht
lassen Sie mich traurig sein
es gibt eine Stadt, builded durch keine Hand
Tochter, thoukunst kommen zu sterben
er erklärt von den guten alten Zeiten
machen Sie sich nicht Sorgen, daß er rüber sein
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
traurig sprechend
es war der Herbst des Jahres
bewiesen im Schimmer in Ihren Augen
vor langer Zeit im jungen Moonlight

 



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