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grandmother poem

el viejo oeste, el viejo tiempo
qué yo le deben
o justo y stately criada, que ojos
con su pelo flaying violentamente
dígame menos o dígame más
para estos brazos blancos sobre mi cuello
al revés, dé vuelta al revés
ahora mientras que están viviendo mis labios
¡bajo!' tis a la noche de la gala
el amo de destinos humanos es yo
lo van
hay una hora del resto pacífico

 



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