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funeral poem

ich mag es
er warfen einen Stein, Sie warfen einen Stein
Tage endeared zu jedem MUSE
ich loathed Sie
ist häufig er nicht so?
möglicherweise ist es gleichgültig, das Sie starben
herauf von die Wiesen reich mit Mais
aller Tag zum Aufpassen der blauen Welle sich zu kräuseln und zu brechen
lassen Sie mich durch die Straße langsam bewegen

 



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