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nature poem

war sie nicht für diesen einzigartigen Geruch
meine Seele ist ein dunkles gepflogenes Feld
unter dem Helm des Warriors
gaily durch die Felder tanzten wir
von der Sonne noch Sterne
Sie sagen, daß Sie mich lieben
einige der Hurts, die Sie kuriert haben
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er

 



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