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grandma poem

es gibt eine Stadt, builded durch keine Hand
letzter Mitternacht
als Meer-Winde unsere Solitudes durchbohrten
ich starrte den prachtvollen Himmel an
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
Ginghamhund und die Kalikokatze
von unseren versteckten Plätzen
das Licht zurückgenommen
umsponnen und gesponnen
ich bildete ein Versprechen einmal, eins nur

 



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