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memorial poem

seien Sie nicht falsch
der Blitz blitzte und hob an
seit, wenn Sie meine Seite heute bereitstanden
obwohl ich wenig als alle kleinen Sachen bin
unter dem Helm des Warriors
gerade jetzt
dieses ist der Song von Jugend
jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen
er war ein hohes junges oysterman
fĂĽr dann auĂźen
geschaukelt in die Aufnahmevorrichtung vom tiefen

 



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