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wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt
unter den Rauch und Nebel eines Dezembernachmittages
ich bot sie aller Abschied
lassen Sie uns Pity die, denen besser seien Sie weg von, als wir sind
wer den Wind nennen wird
lassen Sie hören
einige der Hurts, die Sie kuriert haben
neben einem geschlagenen Feld

 



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