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short poem

ich starrte den prachtvollen Himmel an
ich liebe mein Leben, aber nicht zu gut
in den mournful Zahlen
obwohl Lieberepine und Grundscheuern
unter den Bergen wandered ich
erklären Sie mir nicht
die Dämmerung war apfelgrün
sind Sie wach?
ich habe das Rennen gewonnen
wenn ich gekonnt hatte, Enge ein Gefängnis Liebe ist
die alten Songs

 



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