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halloween poem

ich stehe im kalten grauen Wetter
und noch gingen sie an
lassen Sie nicht hören
traurige Rolle der gedämpften Trommel hat Schlag
diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen
ich wundere manchmal, mich wenn es wirklich zutreffend ist
hören Sie
dieses ist das Arsenal
als ich ein Junge an der Hochschule war
Tochter, thoukunst kommen zu sterben
ich habe das Rennen gewonnen

 



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