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sorry poem

ich stand das geöffnete Flügelfenster bereit
wie ein blanker Mann ich gehen
ich bin der Wind, der wavers
Kurzschluß und süsses und wir sind zum Ende von ihm gekommen
in können Sie
ich bin eine Frau
singen Sie wieder dem Song Sie gesungen
Kerzen, die seitlich in den Tomatedosen stürzen
möglicherweise

 



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