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retirement poem

gegangen die drei, jene seltenen Schwestern
gloom
drehen Sie mich unten durch die Wiese
mit Lippenblut Rot und Herz des Steins
unsere angenehmen Momente fliegen
Töchter der Zeit
lassen Sie mich traurig sein
der Körper kann begrenzen
mit den meek, braunen Augen

 



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