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todavía recuerdo sin duda alguna
en y de sí mismo
un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengüeta
el pasar a través de las paredes amontonadas y feas
cuando volví en la puesta del sol
pensamientos a través de mi cabeza
porqué lo haga
el amor se ha cantado mil maneras
usted piensa, mi muchacho, cuando pongo mis brazos alrededor de usted
su pelo hermoso

 



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