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funeral poem

Sturm
es gibt ein, das dieses i einmal so sehr liebte
dunkel-eyed
unter einem ausgebreiteten Kastaniebaum
meine Seele geht in den gorgeous Sachen plattiert
er erklärt von den guten alten Zeiten
wickeln Sie die Masse im bewölkten Wetter auf
kein Opfer sind ich der schlechten Gedanken

 



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