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poem for pastors

gegen die grüne Flamme des Weißdorn-Baums
singen Sie wieder dem Song Sie gesungen
ich bot sie aller Abschied
ich bin in das Ödland gekommen, weil meine Seele athirst ist
vor dem ernsten Bronzeheiligen
Schatten legen entlang broadway
liegt hier eine schönste Dame

 



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