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break up poem

el viejo oeste, el viejo tiempo
cuando las horas del dĂ­a se numeran
y como caminamos la hierba fue revuelta débilmente
en su tienda guardada
dígame menos o dígame más
el pequeño lamentable, usado, caras el reír
qué yo le deben
había una época en años anteriores
veo todos los ingenios humanos
porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte
estoy muriendo
sobre el río hacen señas a mí

 



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