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christmas poem

el viejo oeste, el viejo tiempo
cuando volví en la puesta del sol
no hay escape al lado del río
con su pelo flaying violentamente
cómoyo ayude a la derecha al mundo que va mal
él incluso tendría su broma
ponemos
desdeño a mis amigos más que usted
porqué lo haga
quién nombrará el viento
él habla no bien
cuando miraba en sus ojos
en su tienda guardada

 



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