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pastor appreciation poem

wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
O angemessen und stately Mädchen, dessen Augen
weich weinend
Sie sind mein Begleiter
ich wußte nie, daß die Masse soviel Gold hatte
Gott
neben es gab nie einen Ton das Holz aber eins
er wird gegangen
fette schwarze Dollars in einem Wein-Faßraum

 



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